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ONE  WOMAN'S  LIFE 


THE  STEPPINGS  OF  FAITH. 


EDNA    GRAY'S    STORY. 


ATLANTA,  GA.: 
The  Franklin  Printing  and  Publishing  Company. 
Geo  W  Harrison,  State  Printer,  Gen.  Mgr. 
i8q8. 


COPYRIGHTED  1898. 


ONE   WOMAN'S    LIFE. 


Scenes  Laid  in  the  Mountains  of  Western  North  Carolina, 
Near  Round  Knob  and  Asheville. 


A  True  Story  of  a  Woman's  Life. 

Her  Romantic,  Tragical,  and  Fatal  Marriage. 

Was  Bedridden  and  Blind  Six  Years. 

Remarkable  Recovery. 

Young  Children  Hidden  a!way  Many   Years. 

The  Mother's  Frantic  and 

Fruitless   Efforts  in  their  Behalf. 

Their  Final  Exciting  Escape  and   Restoration. 


This  Story  Sets  Forth  the  Wonderful  Answer  to  Prayers 
of  Faith  and  the  Triumphs  over  Trials  and  Tempta- 
tions Through  Christ  and  Faith  in  God. 


'a 


EXTRACTS  FROM  LETTERS. 


ONE  WOMAN'S  LIFE,  OR  STEPPINGS  OF  FAITH. 

By  Mrs.  William  King,  of  the  Atlanta  Constitution: 

The  above  is  the  title  of  a  book  soon  to  appear  before  the 
public,  by  Edna  Gray.  Having  seen  and  known  the  author  and 
havinig  a  syn'opsis  of  the  book,  we  can  safely  say  that  it  will  prove 
very  interesting  reading.  It  is  a  true  history  of  a  very  eventful 
liie,  so  sensational  and  dramatic  as  to  keep  up  the  interest 
through  the  entire  story. 

The  author  has  gone  througih  various  and  dark  trials,  ill  health 
and  blindness,  but  her  implicit  faith  has  sustained  her,  and  even 
when  nearly  through  her  work  and  her  blindness  caused  her  to 
desist,  in  a  miost  unexpected  way  a  friend  was  raised  up  to  her 
who  finished  the  work.  So  it  has  been  by  steppings  of  faith  that 
at  last  she  will  soon  present  it  to  the  public.  It  is  truly  a  strange 
and  interesting  history  of  one  woman's  life. 


From  the  Atlanta  Journal: 

A  book  which  will  Shortly  appear  is  written  by  an  Atlanta 
wtoman  and  called  "On©  woman's  Life"  and  "Steppings  of  Faith.  ' 

Edna  Gray  is  the  authoress  and  tells  in  a  clear  and  interesting 
manner  of  this  woman,  who  as  a  blind  and  bed-ridden  sufferer  for 
six  years,  struggled  with  herself  to  overcome  her  weakening:  of 
faith;  and  the  book  admirably  portrays  her  triumph  over  self 
and  the  return  of  faith,  which  came  to  her  through  direct  answer 
to  pi'ayer.  The  book  will  be  out  in  a  short  time  amd  will  be  a 
sweet  story  of  religious  struggles  and  trials,  which  were  all  swept 
away  by  that  divine  peace  which  comes  to  all  who  have  perfect 
faith. 


Mrs.  Lollie  Belle  Wylie's  Letter: 

November  6th',  1897. 

My  Dear  Edna  Gray: — I  have  read  your  manuscript,  One  Wo- 
m.an's  Life,  and  find  the  story  full  of  dramatic  action  and  inter- 
est. I  think  the  stiory  will  find  a  ready  sale  if  published,  and  its 
idea  "to  do  good"  result  as  you  hope  it  will.  Wishing  you  much 
success  and  all  life's  blessings,  I  am.  Sincerely  your  friend, 

LOLLIE  BELLE  WYLIE. 


EXTRACTS    FROM    LETTERS  5 

From  Mr.  H.  T.  Phillips,  Atlanta.  Ga.: 

"Edna  Gray's  book,  One  Woman's  Life,  is  the  most  remarkable 
personal  history  I  ever  read.  Her  powers  of  endurance  were 
wonderful  and  beyond  anything  I  ever  heard  of." 

I  have  not  had  an  opportunity  to  examine  tihe  book  called  One 
Woman's  Life,  but  wish  to  commend  it  as  a  token  of  my  faith  In 
its  author.  I  knew  her  well  in  1883,  a  suffering,  blind  invalid  of 
radiant  Christian  character,  whose  sweet  spirit  and  beautiful  ex- 
ample of  patience  and  joy  in  suffering  shed  a  hallowed  influence 
upon  the  entire  community  in  which  she  lived. 

EDWARD  L.  BELL,  Clergyman, 
Richmond,   Va. 


From  the  Mountain  Voice,  North  Carolina: 

The  many  friends  of  Edna  Gray,  who  has  been  blind  and  help- 
less for  six  years,  will  be  glad  to  hear  that  s'he  has  entirely  re- 
ooivered  the  use  of  her  eyes  and  spine  and  can  see  and  walk  as 
well  as  ever.     Below  is  an  extract  from  her  last  letter: 

Providence  Hospital,  Washington,  D.  C,  Oct.  12th. 

Dear  Father  and  Mother: — Our  many  prayers  are  being  an- 
swered and  I  am  getting  well.  I  can  walk  around  the  room  and 
can  see  nearly  as  well  as  ever. 

My  trust  is  still  in  Gjod  and  I  pray  daily  that  we  may   meet 

again.     We  have  the  best  of  physicians   and  all  are   very    Kind 

to  me.  Your  loving  daughter, 

EDNA   GRAY. 


The  book  called  One  Woman's  Life,  I  heartily  endorse  and 
recommend  as  being  all  it  purports  to  be,  a  reality,  and  not  mere 
fiction.    With  my  prayers  for  its  success,  I  am. 

Very  truly,  W.  B.  REESE. 

Pastor  M.  E.  Church,  South,  Bakersville  Station,  N.  C. 


I  hereby  certify  that  I  believe  the  story,  One  Woman's  Life,  to 
be  a  true  history  of  the  life  of  Edna  Gray. 

J.  B.  DAVIS.,  D.D., 
Pastor  Holy  Trinity  Lutheran  Church,  Mt.  Pleasant,  N.  C. 


O  PREFACE. 

ten  under  the  greatest  difficulties,  failing  sight  the  chief  trouble, 
so  I  ask  my  readers  to  forget  "the  author  in  the  glimpses  of 
Christ  and  his-love  that  at  times  filled  my  soul,  lifting  me  above 
the  unhappy  surroundings  to  worlds  of  light,  love,  and  beauty. 
The  poems  inserted  without  quotation  marks  were  composed 
when  sick  and  blind,  and  are  not  supposed  to  be  the  product 
of  a  poetess,  but  only  the  cry  of  a  breaking  heart — praying 
that  through  my  weakness  and  sorrow  Christ's  light  and  life 
may  shine. 

I  dedicate  my  book  to  all  who  are  seeking  more  of  Bible 
truths,  Bible  promises  and  fulfillments  in  answer  to  the  written 
word:  "If  ye  abide  in  me,  and  my  words  abide  in  you,  ye 
shall  ask  what  ye  will,  and  it  shall  be  done  unto  you."    John  xv. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE. 

CHAPTER  I.            ' 
Childhood i 


CHAPTER  II. 

Maidenhood 9 

CHAPTER  III. 
Wife  and  Mother  ....    3^ 

CHAPTER  IV. 
Blind  and  Helpless   5^ 

CHAPTER  V. 
Under  the  Rod §3 

CHAPTER  VI. 
The  Trial  of  Faith m 

CHAPTER  VII. 
Light  in  Darkness 136 


10  CONTENTS. 

PART  II. 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
After  Many  Days 159 

CHAPTER  IX. 
Not  AS  I  Will 189 

CHAPTER  X 
JESTING  ON  God's  Promises 213 

CHAPTER  XI. 
A  Mother's  Sacrific e 236 


CHAPTER  XII. 
Dark  Days 247 


CHAPTER  XIII. 
Horror 269 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
The  Beginning  of  the  End 286 

CHAPTER  XV. 
Reward  of  Faith /. . .  309 


Oh  !  What  will  become  of  you,  my  poor  little  girl? 


One  WOMAN'S  Life. 


THE   STEPPINGS   OF   FAITH. 


CHAPTER  I. 


CHILDHOOD. 


"Childhood's   days   now   pass  before  me. 

Forms  and  scenes  of  long  ago, 
Like  a  dream  they  hover  o'er  me, 

Calm  and  bright  as  evening's  glow." 

^^^^HE  Story  of  my  life  begins  with  my  seventh 
year,  in  the  town  of  Windsor,  situated  on  the 
banks  of  the  Connecticut  river,  in  the  State  of 
Vermont.  Our  family  consisted  of  father, 
mother,  four  brothers  and  myself,  a  sensitive, 
bashful  child,  happily  surrounded  by  loving  friends  and 
all  the  comforts  of  life.  My  parents  were  of  Puritan  de- 
scent, though  French  blood  flowed  through  my  mother's 
veins,  her  mother  being  a  descendant  of  a  French  marquis. 
My  father  was  fair,  with  deep  blue  eyes  and  dark  curl- 
ing hair.  He  was  mild,  practical,  fond  of  literary  and 
scientific  pursuits  ;  and  being  in  comfortable  circum- 
stances, as  he  was  a  manufacturer  of  sewing  machines, 
and  naturally  indulgent  and  generous,  took  an  active 
1 


2  ONE  woman's  life. 

part  in  all  good  and  moral  works.  My  mother  was  a 
brunette,  tall,  stately  and  beautiful.  She  possessed  much 
literary  and  musical  talent,  a  proud  spirit,  and  a  warm  and 
generous  heart.  Unlike  my  father  she  was  sensitive,  imag- 
inative and  impulsive  ;  inheriting,  I  suppose,  a  deep  love 
for  the  beautiful  in  nature  and  art.  My  eldest  brother,  Sias, 
was  a  strong,  robust  youth  of  seventeen,  with  dark,  ear- 
nest eyes  and  a  heart  so  brave  and  true  that  he  was 
esteemed  by  all  who  knew  him.  Uncle  John,  my 
mother's  youngest,  and  favorite  brother,  a  gifted  artist 
and  musician,  with  three  of  my  father's  nephews,  made 
our  house  their  home,  and  added  their  full  quota  of  en- 
joyment to  our  happy  famil}'  circle.  I  being  the  only  girl 
in  the  house  was  petted  to  my  heart's  content,  especially 
bj''  my  father  and  uncle,  both  of  whom  I  loved  devotedl^^ 

At  this  period  the  war  between  the  North  and  South 
broke  out,  taking  in  its  yawning  jaws,  brother  Sias,  Un- 
cle John,  and  my  cousins.  My  father  was  a  Canadian 
and  also  being  too  old  to  engage  in  active  service,  was 
left  to  comfort  and  care  for  his  family.  Moving  us  to  his 
farm  in  Canada,  his  boyhood's  home,  he  built  a  pretty 
white  cottage,  with  French  windows,  on  a  plateau  two 
hundred  feet  above  the  still,  deep  waters  of  the  Massa- 
wippi  lake,  which  lies  about  five  miles  east  of  the  cele- 
brated Memphremagog.  Our  view  extended  across  this 
beautiful  lake,  and  many  miles  beyond,  taking  in  valleys 
and  rivers,  in  visions  picturesque  and  sublime. 

Well  I  remember  the  night  of  the  departure  of  my  sol- 
dier brother,  uncle  and  cousins.  The  sleigh  stood  at  the 
door,   the  prancing  steed  impatient  to  be  off. 

Aroused  at  midnight  the  novice  soldiers  bravely  bid 
farewell  to  all  that  was  dearest  to  them  in  life,  all  but 
their  country. 


CHILDHOOD.  6 

I  crept  from  my  father's  overcoat  where  I  had  been 
asleep  in  the  wood  box,  to  say  the  sad  good-bye,  with 
heart  choking  with  emotion.  Though  only  seven  years 
of  age  I  beheld  that  scene  with  mind  and  heart  of  older 
years.  Never  shall  I  forget  it.  My  brother,  only  sixteen 
years  of  age,  brave,  noble,  kind  like  a  dear  father  to  me, 
now  saying  farewell  to  his  dear  home  forever,  for  no 
"return"  came  to  that  loving  mother.  It  is  only  repeat- 
ing the  "old,  old  stor}'"  of  vain  hopes,  secret  longings  and 
heart  aches  so  common  during  that  bloody  war.  More 
than  a  year  of  hard  service  for  his  loved  country  and  he 
stood  one  day  serving  at  his  post  of  repairing  a  bridge 
which  was  necessary,  though  so  dangerously  near  the 
enemy  ;  but  it  must  be  done,  and  several  of  the  bravest 
and  best  were  selected  for  the  dangerous  post.  With 
the  courage  of  ai^apoleon  they  faithfully  performed  their 
duty  ;  but  alas  !  alas  !  to  human  life  !  The  enemy  was 
upon  them  !  My  brother  was  shot  through  his  foot,  kill- 
ing his  horse  under  him,  and  was  of  c(>urse  captured. 
His  brave  young  friend,  Orange  A3^er,  galloped  to 
his  aid  only  to  receive  a  like  fate  ;  and  to  the  cold  prison 
walls  they  were  sent.  Oh!  the  sad,  sad  tales  prison  walls 
could  tell,  alike  both  for  North  and  South.  Only  the 
mother  hearts  of  both  countries  know  full  well  the  keen- 
ness of  the  poisoned  arrow  that  broke  their  hearts.  Sisters 
in  sorrow  indeed  they  are.  May  they  now  truly  be 
sisters  in  the  peace  that  is  Christ-like  and  forgiving. 
How  man}^  sad  tales  of  woe.   Ah,  who  can  tell  them! 

"  Under  the  sod  and  the  dew, 
"Waiting  the  judgment  day, 
Under  the  roses — the  blue  ; 
Under  the  lilies— the  gray." 


4  ONE   WOMAN  S   LIFE, 

Anxious  and  weary  with  waiting,  my  mother  longed 
day  by  day  for  news  of  her  eldest  born.  Suspense  that 
could  scarcely  be  borne.  Then  it  came  of  how  he  died 
in  prison,  so  weak  and  worn.  Merely  a  shadow  of  his 
fine  noble  form,  crawling  about  on  hands  and  knees,  no 
strength  to  walk,  untold  suffering,  only  known  to  the 
prison,  life.  The  overwrought  brain  and  full  heart  wait- 
ing at  home  for  him,  could  not  bear  up  under  the  rod 
that  was  chastening  her,  and  the  mother's  heart  broke  at 
the  sad,  sad  end  of  her  noble,  proud  boy.  Not  now  pos- 
sessing the  perfect  hope  in  Christ,  the  burdened  .  brain 
fell  into  melancholy,  gradually  brought  on  by  the  dwell- 
ing on  the  fate  of  her  loved  boy,  buried  away  without 
care  or  tears  in  an  unknown  grave. 

"Will  it  matter  to  him  who  may  sorrow, 
iFor  the  loved  one  we  tenderly  miss? 
Since  our  voices  can  never  more  bring  him 
Back  again  to  our  presence  and  kiss?" 

Almost  heart-broken,  my  parents  were  robed  in  gar- 
ments of  despair.  My  father,  always  frail,  was  pow  com- 
pletely broken  down  in  health  and  spirit  ;  while  a  great 
sorrow  shone  from  my  mother's  dark  eyes,  as  she  sat  by 
the  window  watching  and  waiting  for  the  loved  one  who 
would  never  return.  While  I,  too  young  to  comprehend 
their  grief,  romped  as  usual  over  the  meadows  and  hills, 
with  my  playmate  and  constant  companion,  brother  Brad- 
ley, a  gentle,  delicate  lad,  nearly  three  years  my  sen- 
ior. Together  we  roamed  the  woods  in  search  of  flowers, 
while  our  httle  hearts  were  cheered  by  the  songs  of  merry 
birds.  When  tired  of  outdoor  sports  we  would  ran- 
sack garret  and  closet  for  old  relics  to  add  to  our  num- 
erous   treasures.     Then    at    last    we    would     separate. 


CHILDHOOD,  5 

*  he   .^'oini^  to   his  room  to  read  or  draw — drawing  being 
his   favorite  pastime^-and    I  to    amuse  myself  with  my 
sweet,  black-e3'ed  baby  brother    Harry,  or   to  visit  my 
pets,   which  consisted   of   eight  white  rabbits,  wdth  pink 
■eyes  and  soft,  downy  fur;  "Skip"  an  ugly  little  dog,  but» 
nevertheless,  good    and  dear  to  me;  '^Topsy,"  a  darling 
cat  ;   six   pigeons  ;  a  tame  crow  ;  four  pet  lambs  ;  a  cage 
of  canaries,  and  numerous  others.      Mv  chief  delicrht  was 
with  a  b3ok  perched  upon  the  back  of  a  favorite  cow 
lying  in  the  yard,  where  I  would  sit  and  read,  no  fear  of 
harm    from  any  of  my  pets.     Another  favorite  spot  was 
up  in  the  third  loft  of  the  barn;  with  mv  book  near  a  win- 
dow, I  would  read  and  watch  the  sheep  in  the  "bay"  be- 
low. 

Books  and  love  of  nature  early  formed  a  solid  founda- 
tion of  character,  and  at  the  age  of  ten  my  mind  was 
deeply  impressed  upon  the  subject  of  reUgion,  and  hours 
were  spent  each  day  with  some  favorite  pet,  or  watching 
the  birds  in  some  sequestered  spot  or  shady  nook,  read- 
ing the  Bible,  or  Pilgrim's  Progress,  or  some  other  good 
book.  Laboring  under  the  mistaken  idea  that  I  was  too 
3^oung  to  be  a  Christian,  I  determined,  when  I  became  a 
woman,  to  embrace  religion  and  devote  myself  to  the 
cause  of  Christ. 

Naturally  affectionate  and  impressionable,  this  rural 
life  directed  by  reading  good  books  and  pure  influences 
gently  nurtured  by  nature's  wise  hand,  early  developed 
in  me  a  sLrong  character,  craving  wisdom  and  usefulness 
and  love.  Eagerly  seeking  a  noble  life,  not  yet,  however, 
knowing  the  "Way"  perfectly  and  the  frailty  of  human 
strength. 

During  this  year,  Charley,  a  chubby,  blue-eyed  baby 


6  ONE  woman's  life. 

was  added  to  our  family.  1  was  greatly  dissatisfied  be- 
cause I  had  no  sister,  and  succeeded  in  winning  a  reluct- 
ant promise  from  my  father  that  he  would  at  some  time 
make  up  the  deficiency,  from  an  orphan  asylum,  in  the 
shape  of  a  sister,  with  large  black  e3'es  and  long  black 
curls.  How  1  longed  for  this  event  that  never  happened. 
Years  passed  and  no  sister  gladdened  my  heart,  as  my 
mother  would  never  consent  to  a  stranger  being  admitted 
into  the  home  circle. 

At  the  age  of  twelve  I  was  an  accomplished  romp,  and 
spent  a  large  portion  of  my  time  skating,  coasting,  riding 
horse-back,  or  roaming  over  hills  and  vales  with  my 
father,  holding  his  hand  and  listening  to  his  tales  of  bygone 
days ;  but  frequently  enjoying  these  sports  alone,  being  too 
independent  and  bashful  to  even  speak  to  the  opposite 
sex,  thereby  keeping  them  at  a  respectful  distance,  while 
girls   were  too  timid  to  engage  in  my  daring  adventures. 

Two  years  later  my  father's  business  called  him  to 
Guelph,  a  large  prosperous  town  near  Toronto.  This 
trip  was  very  interesting  and  made  a  vivid  impression  on 
my  young  mind.  We  traveled  a  portion  of  the  night,  and 
arrived  at  the  famous  Victoria  bridge  about  dawn  ;  the 
wheels  of  our  coach  being  considered  unsafe  we  were 
compelled  to  change;  entering  the  tunnel  we  were  sur- 
rounded by  midnight  darkness,  only  broken  occasionally 
by  gleams  of  light  through  very  small  windows  in  the 
bridge.  We  spent  two  days  in  Montreal  and  visited  many 
points  of  interest.  The  stone  buildings,  so  dark  and  gloom}-, 
presented  a  decided  contrast  to  the  ones  in  our  former 
home. 

We  traveled  up  the  lakes  and  spent  another  day  sight- 
seeing in  Toronto.  Here  and  at  Quebec,  and  other  places 


CHILDHOOD. 


mv  father  was  appointed  judge  of  the  machinery  exhib- 
its in  the  provincial  fairs  in  that  country.  At 
Guelph,  I  was  placed  in  a  Young  Ladies'  finishing  school. 
In  this  school  there  were  about  one  hundred  girls,  all  of 
whom  were  over  twelve  years  of  age.  Miss  Walker,  the 
senior  teacher,  was  an  accomplished  lady,  capable  of  in- 
structino;  in  the  lano;uao:es,  arts  and  science.  Our  outside 
pleasures  were  numerous  compared  with  those  allowed 
school  girls  of  the  present  day,  we  being  permitted  to  at- 
tend festivals,  celebrations,  picnics,  concerts,  sleigh-rides, 
etc.  Thus  a  year  of  my  life  went  merrily  by,  when  my 
father,  whose  health  was  still  declining,  determined  to  ex- 
change our  cold  northern  climate,  our  snow-clad  hills, 
for  the  sunny  South,  and  save  himself,  if  possible,  fromthat 
much  dreaded  disease,  consumption.  Previous  to  this  Ed- 
gar, my  oldest  living  brother,  imbued  with  a  roving  disposi- 
tion, and  a  desire  to  see  more  of  the  world,  forsook  home 
and  friends  for  distant  scenes.  He  was  a  handsome,  im- 
pulsive, black-eyed  boy,  and  in  my  childish  sight  he 
seemed  a  hero.  Letters  in  which  he  spoke  of  his  love  for 
his  little  sister  were  treasured  until  worn  out  by  ref>eated 
readings.  One  of  my  chief  regrets  upon  leaving  Canada 
was  the  thought  of  being  separated  from  a  dearly  loved 
aunt,  my  father's  noble  and  sainted  sister  Mary.  Her  heart 
was  ever  open  to  the  wants  of  the  poor  and  destitute,  and 
so  beloved  was  she,  for  her  charity  and  goodness,  that 
those  who  knew  her,  styled  her  "the  orphan's  friend.'* 
Every  spot  and  corner  of  her  home  possessed  a  charm 
for  me,  her  favorite  niece,  from  the  room  where  dwelt 
the  aged  grandparents,  to  the  old  garret  so  dear  ;  but  I 
must  leave  it  all  and  say  good-bye.     To  the  old-fashioned 


8  ONE  woman's  life. 

farm-house,  groves  and  meadows,  schoolmates,  scenes  of 
childhood,  and  even  childhood  forever — good-bye,  good- 
bye. 

"Still  in  my  sorrow,  my  child'hbod's  dear  home, 
Oft  in  deep  sadness  its  memories  come. 
There  with  the  beings  on  earth  I  loved  best, 
I  lived,  but  too  happy,  to'o  happy  to  last." 

"O  beautiful  dead  past,  too  fair  and  bright  to  stay, 
Too  much  like  Heaven  to  last,  gone  like  the  rose-crowned  May, 
Yet  the  beauty  that  it  cast  still  lingers  round  my  way." 


CHAPTER  II. 


MAIDENHOOD. 

"My  heart  is  like  a  lonely  bird, 

That  sadly  sings, 
Brooding  upon  it&  nest  unheard, 
With  folded  wings." 

''The  sjiiilcr  ivith  the  knife  under  Ids  cloak.'''' 

S  we  left  our  Canadian  home,  a  new  and 
strange  feeling  stole  over  me,  "A  feeling  of 
sadness  and  longing,"  such  as  I  had  never  be- 
fore experienced.  Instead  of  the  wild  romp 
of  twelve  I  was  now  a  quiet  maiden  just  en- 
tering my  sixteenth  year, 

"Standing  poised  with  eager  feet, 
Where  womanhood  and  childhood  meet." 

So    I    stood    a    slender    figure,    of    medium  height, 

round  face,   blue  e3-es,   a  fair    complexion,  scarlet   lips, 

pink  cheeks,  long  dark  eyelashes,  and  hair  of  a  peculiar 

shade,  varying  in  different  lights  frpm  a  bronze  brown  to 

a  bright  golden.     My  character  was  composed,  as  was 

human,  of  faults  and  virtues'.  I Avas  proud  and  ambitious  ; 

while  on  the  other  hand,  truthfulness  and  systematic  and 

industrious  habits  had   been    taught    me    by    my    noble 

mother,  and  I  naturally  had  a  deep  thirst  for  knowledge  ; 

a  mind  that  loathed  the  coarse  and  unrefined,  and  longed 

for  the  artistic  and  beautiful. 


10  ONE    woman's^  life. 

My  heart,  not  3'et  purified  by  Christ,  was  filled  with 
conflicting  emotions.  My  temperament  was  nervous 
and  excitable,  and  impatient  for  improvement  and  growth. 
Sensitive^  and  diffident,  my  manners  were  not  always 
agreeable  to  strangers,  and  I  was  often  called  cold  and 
haughty.  "Every  heart  has  its  secret  sorrows,  and  oft- 
times  we  call  one  cold  when  he  is  only  sad." 

My  father  having  business  to  attend  to  in  the  province 
of  Ontario,  carried  us  by  a  circuitous  route  to  our  new 
home. 

Niagara  was  the  first  and  principal  point  of  interest. 
With  bated  breath  we  viewed  the  sublime  grandeur  here 
displayed. 

New  York  was  the  next  point  of  any  note,  where  was 
found  humanity  of  all  classes.  We  spent  two  days  here, 
finding  new  delights  each  hour.  .We  passed  very  slowly 
through  Washington,  but  had  only  a  glimpse  of  the  city_ 
Passing  the  cultivated  lands  of  wealthy  farmers,  and  the 
squalid  huts  of  the  poor,  our  impressions  varied  between 
the  wild  and  grand,  the  lowly  and  lovely.  Arriving  at 
Lynchburg,  Va.,  weary  and  dusty,  and  learning  that  we 
must  ^'change  cars,"  we  concluded  to  rest.  Our  hearts 
sank  as  we  noticed  the  change  in  the  soil  and  the  gen- 
eral aspect  of  the  countr}^,  and  the  car  that  would  carry 
us  to  the  end  of  our  journey.  At  that  time  that  portion 
of  the  South  had  no  handsome  palace  coaches,  such  as 
we  had  rested  so  comfortably  in  during  our  trip.  It  would 
be  difficult  to  describe  my  feelings,  as,  once  more  on  our 
way,  I  sat  silent  and  alone  (a  gentleman  having  appropri- 
ated my  usual  seat  by  Brother  Bradley),  my  face  pressed 
against  the  window  pane,  watching,  with  awe  and  dis- 
may, the  changed  appearance  of  the  scenery.     Instead  of 


MAIDENHOOD.  1  1 

green  fields,  groves  and  smoothly  flowing  streams,  wild 
gorges,  dark  ravines,  and  rocky  cliffs  met  our  gaze. 
Reaching  Wolf  Creek,  Tenn.,  after  sunset,  we  were  in- 
formed that  there  was  no  stage  leaving  for  Warm  Springs,. 
N.  C,  our  future  destination,  and  not  finding  any  suita- 
ble accommodations  for  remaining  over  night,  we  adopted 
the  only  course  left,  that  of  traveling  in  wagons,  into  which 
our  lady  companion,  my  mother  and  the  boys  were  snugly 
"tucked."  Little  Charley  was  ill,  which  added  greatly  to 
our  discomfort.  The  road  looked  so  dark,  rocky  and 
precipitous,  I  decided  to  walk  with  my  father  and  the 
other  gentlemen  of  our  party.  The  impressions  formed 
during  that  moonlight  journey  will  never  be  erased  from 
my  memory.  The  tail  trees,  rendered  gigantic  by  the 
moonbeams,  reaching  their  long  arms  heavenward,  cast 
dense  shadows  in  the  distance  ;  the  solemn  "hoot-te-hoot" 
of  the  ow^ls,  together  with  the  distant  roar  of  falling  wa- 
ters, created  an  effect  both  weird  and  ghostly. 

Late  that  night  a  disconsolate  little  party  drove  up  to 
the  Warm  Springs  Hotel.  The  sleepy  porter,  being 
aroused,  prepared  us  refreshments  and  showed  us  to  our 
rooms,  where  all  but  I  sought  rest  in  the  land  of 
dreams.  Homesick,  I  could  not  sleep,  and  spent  the 
night  in  tears.  Refusing  my  breakfast  next  morning,  I 
sat  like  "Rachel,  weeping  and  refusing  to  be  comforted." 
At  last  I  ventured  from  my  room  when  there  was  no  one 
present.  I  met  a  girl  about  my  own  age,  who  informed 
me  that  her  name  was  Ada  Howell.  Her  sweet,  artless 
manner,  chestnut  hair,  and  dark  blue  ej'es  completely 
charmed  me  ;  while  her  kind  cordiality  cheered  and 
lifted  the  gloom  from  my  heart. 

Warm  Springs  at  that  time  was  largely  patronized  by 


12  ONE  woman's  life. 

the  aristocracy  of  the  south.  This  summer,  there  were, 
in  addition  to  our  family,  a  large  number  of  northern 
visitors,, who,  like  ourselves,  were  in  search  of  a  warm 
climate  in  which  to  locate.  I  soon  became  acquainted 
with  a  number  of  ladies  and  gentlemen,  and  passed  the 
summer  pleasantly  playing  croquet,  dancing  and  taking 
long  rambles  through  the  romantic  forest  surrounding 
the  Springs.  Everything  was  strange  and  new  to  me  ; 
the  mountains  and  people  who  lived  among  them  ;  es- 
pecially the  women  with  their  large  frames,  their  tanned, 
leathery  complexion,  rendered  so  by  exposure  and  hard 
work,  and  their  peculiar  habits  of  speech  ;  the  wide 
yawning  fireplaces  in  the  houses;  and  the  southern  negro, 
of  whom  I  had  read,  I  now  beheld  with  wondering  eyes. 
A  huge  black  negro,  attempting  to  shake  hands  with 
baby  Charley,  broke  out  into  an  uproarious  peal  of  laugh- 
ter when  Charley  drew  his  hand  away  and  examined  it 
to  see  if  it  was  smutty. 

My  father  and  some  other  gentlemen  purchased  some 
property,  known  as  Old  Fort,  and  prepared  to  settle. 
We  traveled  by  private  conveyance  from  Warm  Springs, 
up  the  French  Broad,  a  wide,  rapidly  flowing  river,  with 
steep,  rugged  mountains  on  either  side,  between  which 
and  the  river  winds  a  narrow  romantic  road.  Overtaken 
on  the  way  b}^  a  heavy  rainstorm,  we  were  completely 
drenched  before  we  reached  Asheville,  a  highland  town, 
now  a  Vk^ealthy,  flourishing  summer  resort.  Entering  the 
public  room  of  a  hotel  to  dry  our  dripping  garments,  I 
noticed  a  gay  party  at  the  further  end  of  the  room,  one 
of  whom,  a  pale  cripple,  irnmediately  aroused  my  sym- 
pathy by  his  sad  appearance;  but  pity  soon  turned  to  an- 
ger, as  he  glanced  significantly  toward  me  and  drew  at- 


MAIDENHOOD.  13- 

tention  to  my  now  flushed  face.  Indignation  kept  me 
silent,  though  I  inwardly  hoped  that  at  some  time  thev 
might  feel  ashamed  of  their  rude  conduct.  I  presume 
their  merriment  was  due  to  our  foreign  and  draggled  ap- 
pearance. I  never  forgot  the  little  incident,  and  years 
later  under  peculiar  circumstances,  I  was  gratified  by 
meeting  a  lady  who  had  taken  a  conspicuous  part  in  the 
fun-makinjj. 

The  next  morning  we  left  Asheville,  and  crossing  the 
silvery  Swannanoa,  we  saw  in  the  distance  the  huge  sum- 
mit of  Black  Mountain,  which  looms  up  dark  and  grand, 
above  all  others  east  of  the  "Rockies." 

We  stopped  at  a  house  on  the  way  for  refreshments  but 

were  told  that  "Major  D ,"who  lived  a  short  distance 

ahead,  would  accommodate  us.  We  wondered  at  a  ma- 
jor's selling  edibles,  and  our  wonder  grew  into  aston- 
ishment when  we  drove  up  to  the  squalid  little  hut  sur- 
rounded by  tumble-down  out-houses,  which  was  very  like 
most  mountaineers'  homes  in  any  country,  yet  not  a  "Ma- 
jor's" home.  After  some  difficulty,  a  dirty  looking  girl  sup- 
plied my  little  brothers  with  bread  and  milk,  and  the  rest 
of  us  concluded  to  wait  a  more  suitable  opportunity  to  re- 
fresh ourselves.  Gaining  the  topof  the  Blue  Ridge  we  were 
again  caught  in  a  violent  storm,  and  afraid  to  ride  1  decid- 
ed to  walk  down  the  mountain,  a  distance  of  six  miles.  The 
rain  fell  in  blinding  torrents,  the  vivid  sheets  of  lightning, 
followed  by  territic  peals  of  thunder,  reverberated  from 
hill  to  hill,  and  made  a  picture  fearful  in  its  wildness  and 
sublimity.  About  half  way  down  the  mountain,  we  saw 
the  stage  which  had  preceded  us,  lying,  bottom  up,  at 
a  distance  of  sixty  feet  down  a  cliff  ;  torn  bushes  and 
harness  told  of  a  terrible  accident.     We  shuddered  as  we 


14  ONE  woman's  life. 

remembered  how  near  we  came  taking  seats  that  morn- 
ing in  the  fated  coach  and  we  hurried  on,  to  find  its  former 
occupants  in  a  tumble-down  hut  close  by,  moaning  with 
pain  and  awaiting  relief.  Entering  the  dismal  hut,  we 
found  one  lad}"  lying  on  some  planks,  her  head  bound  in 
a  handkerchief,  fatally  injured.  Several  ladies  and  gen- 
tlemen were  standing  around,  wet,  chilled  and  seriously 
hurt  by  the  fall.  They  were  without  matches  and  could 
not  light  a  fire,  so  begged  us  to  hasten  on  and  send  them 
aid.  My  father  telling  me  to  keep  the  main  road,  took 
a  near  path  through  the  woods,  hoping  thereby  to  find 
someone  to  relieve  the  suffering  strangers.  As  I  flew 
down  the  mountain  road  through  the  falling  sheets  of  wa- 
ter, I  met  several  horsemen  ;  I  forgot  everything  but  the 
distressing  scene  in  the  hut  above  and  hastily  exclaimed, 
"Will  you  please  give  me  some  matches  ?"  They  smiled, 
and  as  I  remember  the  picture  I  made,  I  do  not  won- 
der, though  at  the  time  their  smiles  puzzled  me  no  little. 
Dressed  in  the  Canadian  style  of  short  skirts,  high  boots 
and  gypsy  hat,  with  my  yellow  hair  hanging  in  dishev- 
eled masses  around  my  face,  which  glowed  with  excite- 
ment and  unusual  exertion,  standing  in  the  road,  ankle- 
de.ep  in  mud  and  water,  I  must  have  presented  a  ludicrous 
spectacle. 

After  telling  them  of  the  catastrophe,  they  said  they 
had  matches  and  would  do  all  they  could  to  assist  the  dis- 
tressed party.  Joining  father  again,  we  found  shelter  in  a 
tunnel  and  waited  for  the  wagon.  When  we  arrived  at  Old 
Fort,  great  was  our  consternation  to  find  the  house  we 
had  expected  to  occupy  torn  from  its  place  and  standing 
about  sixteen  feet  from  its  chimneys,  the  kitchen  crushed 
by  a  large  tree,  and  the  ground  strewn  with  fallen  trees, 


SCENE    NEAR   ROUND    KNOB,  N.   C. 

^'Wliat  a  premonition  of  the  stormy  life  in  store  for  me!" 


MAIDENHOOD.  17 

loose  timber  and  remnants  of  a  coach  that  had  been 
caught  in  the  cyclone  and  shattered  by  a  falling  tree.  We 
were  informed  that  two  men  were  carried  some  distance 
by  the  C3'clone  and  injured  seriously. 

There  we  were  joined  by  several  families,  who  pro- 
ceeded to  erect  dwellings  ;  my  father  built  a  Gothic 
cottage  where  I  lived  until  my  marriage. 

Old  Fort  was  built  during  the  revolutionary  war,  and 
has  retained  its  historic  name.  It  is  a  lovely  valley  en- 
closed by  heavily  timbered  hills,  and  mountains  covered 
with  dense  growth  of  laurel,  rhododendrons,  and  many 
other  handsome  flowers  and  shrubs,  besides  a  great  vari- 
ety of  medicinal  plants.  A  clearcrystal  creek  runs  through 
the  valley  shaded  by  magnificent  trees,  walnut,  poplar, 
maple,  chestnut,  etc.  There  was  the  terminus  of  the 
Western  North  Carolina  Railroad,  and  travelers  were 
compelled  to  continue  their  journey  across  the  Blue  Ridge 
in  the  old-fashioned  stage  coach.  Many  were  the  ad- 
ventures, accidents,   hair-breadth  escapes  of  those  days. 

Illness,  brought  on  by  exposure  while  crossing  the 
mountain,  confined  me  to  my  room  for  several  weeks  after 
arriving  at  our  new  home.  By  the  time  I  had  recovered, 
the  news  had  gone  out  through  the  surrounding  coun- 
try of  the  Northern  settlers,  and  many  were  the  curious 
spectators  who  flocked  to  Old  Fort  to  see  "the  Yankees," 
as  the}^  termed|us.  They  gazed  in  amazement,  and  con- 
sidered us  curiosities  in  every  sense.  We,  too,  gazed  at 
the  queer  "country  folk,"  who  thronged  the  place.  This 
class  hved  in  small  houses  daubed  with  red  clay,  their 
food  consisted  of  corn-bread,  baked  by  an  open  fire, 
muddy  coffee,  with  an  occasional  scanty  allowance  of 
rusty  bacon.  They  were  coarse  and  ignorant,  many  of 
2 


18  ONE  woman's  life. 

them  not  being  able  to  read  or  write,  while  their  children 
were  addicted  to  the  habit  of  eating  clay  and  chewing  to- 
bacco. Of  course  there  is  a  class  of  farmers  far  supe- 
rior to  these,  who  own  large  farms,  live  in  comfortable 
houses,  and  keep  their  tables  supplied  with  substantial 
food.  They  are  hospitable,  also  shrewd  and  intelHgent. 
The  aristocracy  of  the  south  I  found  composed  of  culti- 
vated, wealthy  people.  Some  of  them  were  prosperous, 
and  vainly  proud  of  their  superior  advantages  and  high 
social  position,  but  the  majority  of  them  were  courteous, 
kind  and  chivalrous,  true  ladies  and  gentlemen.  Our 
earliest  southern  friends  were  Dr.  McCoy  and  wife,  an 
intelHgent  Christian  couple,  residing  at  Old  Fort.  In  our 
darkest  days  of  trouble  we  received  comfort  and  sj^mpa- 
thy  from  these  faithful  friends.  There  existed  in  many 
hearts  a  bitter  feeling  of  animosity  towards  northern 
people,  and  we  were  exceedingly  troubled  when  we  heard 
of  threats  against  my  father  who  had  been  appointed 
mayor,  made  by  a  company  of  roughs  who  came  to  town 
to  disturb  the  peace  and  convert  the  new  town  into  a  den 
for  gamblers  and  drunkards.  Many  acts  of  violence 
were  being  committed  throughout  the  country  by  a  dis- 
guised band  called  the  "Ku  Klux  Klan,"  and  although 
my  father  was  a  Canadian  and  not  a  Yankee,  as  they 
thoucfht,  so  anxious  was  I  that  often  I  would  follow 
my  father  unseen  by  him,  determined,  should  they  attack 
him,  to  do  all  in  my  power  to  save  his  life,  even  at  the 
risk  of  my  own  ;  but  the  days  passed  without  a  call  upon 
my  bravery  or  muscle,  and  there  was  no  excitement  save 
the  capturing  of  large  bands  of  "Ku  Klux"  by  the  United 
States  officers.  They  talked  very  pleasantly  with  my 
father,  and  one  of  them  gave  him  the  disguise,  horned 


MAIDENHOOD.  21 

mask  with  red  eyes,  mouth  and  nose,  a  frightful  looking 
thing.  There  were  many  innocent  looking  boys  among 
them,  and  we  could  not  help  but  feel  sorry  that  they  were 
engaged  in  this  business.  In  the  days  following  these 
exciting  troubles,  I  spent  many  hours  rambling  through 
the  beautiful  woods  so  dear  to  me,  building  air  castles  and 
gathering  flowers  and  mosses.  Often  I  joined  Bradley's 
sad,  rich  voice  in  song  accompanied  by  the  plaintive  notes 
'~'f  the  guitar.  Later  becoming  acquainted  with  some 
young  persons  of  Marion,  a  neighboring  town,  I  accepted 
a  kind  invitation  and  spent  a  few  happy  weeks  there. 

Like  other  girls,  I  had  my  admirers,  perhaps  more 
than  my  share.  Among  others,  was  one  in  particular,  Mr. 
Ray,  handsome,  intelligent,  gentlemanly.  His  devotion 
was  marked,  and  though  appreciated  as  a  friend,  no  ten- 
der sentiment  was  awakened  in  my  heart.  I  was  too  young 
and  inexperienced.  That  devotion  was  afterwards  very 
kindly  remembered,  and  at  one  time  longed  for  as  a  pro- 
tection from  the  awful  evil  about  to  engulf  me.  One  day, 
some  young  ladies  of  my  acquaintance  planned  a 
walk,  giving  me  for  escort  their  uncle  Charles,  and  pass- 
ing conveniently  (?)  by  Mr.  Ray's  place  of  business  that 
his  jealousy  might  be  aroused.  Accidentally  I  walked  by 
him  without  speaking,  which  was  instantly  noticed,  and 
the  heart  of  love  offended,  the  beginning  of  many  mis- 
understandings, originated  by  persons  desirous  of  the  es- 
trangement of  our  friendship.  Thus  I  lost  a  friend  whose 
kind  heart  mirjht  have  saved  me  and  turned  the  tide  of 
an  awful  future. 

I  had  fully  determined  to  secure  an  education,  and 
soon  after  gained  admittance  to  a  good  thorough  school, 
flourishing  under  the  fostering  care  of  Mrs.  Grovesnor. 


22  ONE  woman's  life. 

On  entering  her  school  I  was  charmed  by  her  kind,  moth - 
erl}^  manner  and  striking  resemblance  to  my  much  loved 
Aunt  Mary.  In  her  were  embodied  all  the  Christian  vir- 
tues; her  presence  inspired  within  me  a  longing  for  some- 
thing holier  and  better  than  I  had  ever  known.  Assisted 
by  her  intelligent,  interesting  daughter,  and  our  kind  friend, 
Mrs.  McCoy,  a  successful  system  of  religious  and  moral 
training  was  established.  The  long  walks  to  and  from 
school  were  made  pleasant  by  Ada's  company,  my  friend 
of  Warm  Springs,  her  father  having  joined  our  colony. 
At  first  we  were  treated  with  suspicion  by  some  of  the 
larger  pupils,  their  thoughtless  conduct  causing  me  many 
tears.  Arthur  Grovesnor,  my  teacher's  youngest  son, 
now  proved  a  kind  and  helpful  friend.  So  intelligent 
and  studious,  his  aid  in  my  studies  was  invaluable  to  me, 
and  his  kindly  protecting  friendship  won  my  highest  es- 
teem. He,  too,  would  have  proved  a  brave  defender  of 
his  little  friend  in  the  severe  trial  that  soon  came  into 
her  life.     But  it  was  not  to  be. 

About  this  time  there  entered  into  our  house  one 
whose  cruelty  and  deception  cast  over  my  Hfe  the  dark- 
ness of  midnight  and  the  gloom  of  the  grave.  One 
evening  during  my  father's  absence,  he  having  returned 
to  Canada  on  business,  answering  a  knock  at  the  door, 
we  were  surprised  at  the  entrance  of  Mr.  Roderick,  a 
merchant  who  had  recently  located  in  our  little  town. 
Making  some  trivial  excuse  for  calling,  he  entered  into  a 
spirited  conversation  with  my  mother.  I  continued  my 
studies  and  was  soon  lost  to  his  presence,  little  dreaming 
that  /  was  the  object  of  his  visit. 

Mr.  Roderick  was  a  bachelor  of  uncertain  age,  six  feet 
high,  large  muscular  frame,  dark  piercing  eyes,  and  soft 


MAIDENHOOD.  23 

brown  hair.  His  appearance  was  not  attractive  or  cal- 
culated to  inspire  confidence  or  love,  in  a  youthful  nature 
like  my  own.  During  the  frequent  calls  which  followed, 
in  which  he  professed  tender  affection  for  me,  I  paid  him 
little  attention,  and  was  often  uncivil,  although,  to  my  dis- 
comfort, he  was  quite  indifferent  to  my  indifference;  and, 
continuing  his  calls,  succeeded  by  acts  of  kindness  and 
interest  in  their  affairs,  to  win  the  regard  of  my  family. 
As  time  went  on,  my  mother's  health  failed.  She  labored 
under  great  nervous  and  mental  strain,  having  never 
recovered  from  the  sad  fate  of  her  eldest  son,  and  owing 
partly  I  think,  to  our  feeling  of  friendlessness  and  insecu- 
rity. Bradley,  who  was  a  kind  son  and  brother,  having 
never  seemed  happy  since  leaving  his  boyhood  home, 
now  grew  pale  and  sad,  spending  most  of  his  time  in  soli- 
tary confinement,  dwelling  on  the  studies  he  loved.  En- 
joying good  healtfi  myself,  I  felt  a  tender  sympathy  for  my 
delicate  brother,  and  the  interest  and  sympathy  shown 
by  Mr.  Roderick  for  him  and  my  mother,  finally  won  my 
deepest  gratitude.  M}-  younger  brothers,  Harry  and 
Charley,  taking  advantage  of  my  father's  absence  and 
my  mother's  indisposition,  exposed  themselves  to  all  sorts 
of  danger,  causing  me  great  distress,  which  was  allevi- 
ated somewhat  when  I  found  that  Mr.  Roderick  was 
keeping  a  watchful  eye  on  them,  even  defending  them 
from  assaults  of  rude  boys  on  the  streets.  He  seemed 
a  faithful  and  staunch  friend  of  the  family  instead  of  a 
suitor  for  my  hand. 

My  parents  had  organized  a  Sabbath-school  at  our 
house  for  the  benefit  of  the  neighborhood  and  upon  one 
occasion,  walking  home  with  a  friend  from  the  school, 
Mr.   Roderick  joined  us.     After  seeing  her  safely  home 


24  ONE  woman's  life. 

we  returned  together.  "So  you  are  determined  upon 
going  off  to  school  to  finish  your  education?"  remarked 
Mr.  Roderick.  "Oh,  yes/'  I  said,  "it  will  take  me  just 
four  years  more  to  graduate  in  all  I  wish  to  study.  My 
music  just  begun  too.  I  shall  be  happy  indeed  when  I 
know  all  I  desire.  I  love  study  and  want  a  thorough  ed- 
ucation. Going  away  to  this  school  I  shall  obtain  all  I 
wish ." 

"Sorry  3'ou  insist  upon  these  things.  I  do  not  want 
you  to  go  away,  I  want  you  to  marry  me."  Like  a 
frightened  fawn,  I  sprang  from  his  side,  startled,  sur- 
prised. I  darted  forward,  hastening  home  without  an- 
other word,  Mr.  Roderick  keeping  near  me,  though  I 
almost  ran.  Into  the  house  I  hastened  to  my  mother's 
side.  The  bachelor  friend  of  the  family,  as  my  suitor, 
had  never  occurred  to  me.  I  had  never  thought  of  such 
a  thing  and  then  a  feeling  of  distress  possessed  me.  "Oh, 
mother,"  I  exclaimed_,  in  a  frightened  undertone,  "Mr. 
Roderick  wants  me  to  marry  him."  To  my  great  as- 
tonishment and  distress  my  mother  replied,  ^'Well,  my 
child  I  think  it  would  be  well  for  you  to  become  the  wife 
of  so  good  a  Christian  man;  I  would  die  happy  if  I  left 
you  in  his  kind  care."  Surprised,  disappointed,  I 
turned  away,  my  heart  sinking  with  man}'  doubts  and 
fears.  I  see  now,  but  did  not  then,  that  the  melan- 
choly, overburdened  life  my  mother  led,  together  with  a 
diseased  body,  had  affected  her  reasoning,  for  she  was 
not  herself  to  consign  her  only  daughter  to  such  a  fate. 
Often  I  had  heard  her  say,  that  a  daughter  of  hers  should 
not  marry  young.  Was  I  not  only  sixteen  years  of  age? 
What  could  it  mean!  Mr.  Roderick's  great  pretensions 
to  rehgion  and  extreme  kindness  and  devotion  to  our  family, 


MAIDENHOOD.  25 

and  my  mother's  weakened  condition  had  entirely  changed 
her.  True,  I  respected  Mr.  Roderick,  because  I  thought 
then  his  pretensions  were  sincere.  I  was  filled  with  sur- 
prise and  wonder  when  he  spoke  of  his  love  for  me^  such 
a  frivolous  child!  I  could  not  understand  how  such  an 
elderly,  quiet  Christian,  one  almost  sanctified  in  his  saintly 
devotion,  generally  carrying  a  Bible  in  his  pocket,  and 
conversing  freely  on  religious  subjects,  could  loveme! 
He  was,  apparently,  so  thoughtful  of  others,  and  so  un- 
selfish, that  he  soon  won  the  esteem  of  the  people.  I 
felt  flattered,  and  quite  inferior  in  virtues.  Lacking  con- 
fidence in  myself,  I  soon  began  to  rely  upon  his  strength, 
will  and  judgment,  thereby  drifting  unconsciously  into 
the  channel  his  will  had  determined  upon,  for  I  learned  in 
after  years,  that  on  seeing  me  the  first  time,  he  registered 
a  vow  that  I  should  be  his  wife,  saying,  that  if  not  his 
wife,  I  should  never  be  the  wife  of  another. 

One  evening,  returning  home  from  an  entertainment, 
Mr.  Roderick  accompanied  me,  having  been  left  to  his 
care.  I  stood  near  the  center  of  the  room,  waiting  for 
him  to  go,  but  he  was  not  to  be  gotten  rid  of  so  easily. 
"You  do  not  love  me?  Tell  me  only  that  you  care  for 
me,"  he  pleaded.  "I  love  you  so  devotedly  I  cannot  live 
without  you.  You  are  the  only  one  I  have  ever  loved, 
and  shall  never  love  another.  Will  you  consign  me  to 
such  a  lonely,  unhappy  existence?"  My  tongue  refused 
to  speak,  my  heart  replied  only  in  silence  of  vexation  and 
aversion  that  he  should  force  his  presence  upon  me. 
Go,  go,  was  all  I  wished,  and  I  said  nothing.  Finding 
his  words  in  vain,  he  finally  left  me,  remaining  away  one 
week;  then  he   returned  more  persistent  than  before,  and 


26  ONE  woman's  life. 

laid  siege  with  a  determined  will  to  succeed,  and  I  felt 
myself  growing  weaker. 

Our  family,  innocent  of  hypocrisy  and  unsuspicious, 
trusted  too  much  to  outside  appearances,  all  ideas  of  de- 
ceptive treachery  being  foreign  to  their  natures;  therefore 
I  was  an  easy  prey  to  Mr.  Roderick's  artful  plans,  and 
almost  before  I  was  aware  of  it,  was  his  promised  bride. 
M}^  father  and  brother  Edgar  having  returned  in  the 
meantime,  were  also  won;  at  least  my  brothers  were,  and 
congratulated  me  on  the  prospect  of  marriage  with 
one  so  noble  and  good.  My  mother  thinking  her  end 
near,  wished  to  see  her  only  daughter  secure  from  the 
possibility  of  marriage  with  a  dissipated  or  cruel 
man,  and  placing  implicit  confidence  in  the  honor  and 
apparent  tender  heart  of  Mr.  Roderick,  strongly  urged 
my  marriage  with  him — provided  I  could  love  him.  Ig- 
norant of  the  affairs  of  the  heart  I  mistook — a  very  com- 
mon mistake — feelings  of  friendship,  and  gratitude  for  his 
kindness  to  my  parents  and  brothers,  for  love,  and  thus 
made  the  fatal  blunder. 

My  all  absorbing  devotion  to  my  parents  and  brothers 
urged  my  obedience  to  their  wishes.  Any  sacrifice  I 
would  make  for  them.  Though  not  accustomed  to  sacri- 
fice in  little  things,  yet  greater  ones  were  readily  made 
for  their  dear  sakes,  even  to  this,  the  fatal  step  that 
crushed  all  happiness  for  me  and  ruined  my  life.  Oh, 
God  that  human  hearts  could  be  so  blind,  so  easily  de- 
ceived! Marriage  without  the  guidance  of  prayer,  and 
that  too  wanting  the  judgment  of  maturer  years.  What 
a  mistake!  O,  ye  mothers  and  daughters,  let  my  life- 
story  be  a  warning  to  you!  Starting  to  school  one 
morning  I  stopped  in  the  room  where  sat  my  mother  and 


MAIDENHOOD,  27 

brothers;  knowing  that  Mr.  Roderick  would  be  there 
that  day  for  his  answer,  I  said  to  them,  "What  shall  I  do 
about  it?  Shall  I  marry  this  man?"  My  mother  said, 
"My  daughter,  if  you  can  love  him,  I  think  it  would  be 
the  best  thing  you  could  do,  for  I  do  not  think  I  can  be 
with  you  long."  Brothers  both  advised  me  to  marry  him, 
saying  he  was  a  gentleman,  and  a  good  man  and  worthy 
of  any  woman.  My  father  was  abroad  and  was  not  con- 
sulted. It  was  the  general  opinion  of  the  town  and 
neighborhood  that  Mr.  Roderick  was  a  thorough  Chris- 
tian gentleman,  and  my  mother  and  brothers  only  fell  in 
with  the  estimation  of  all  others  regarding  him.  My 
heart  sank  in  utter  despair — more  than  ever  before.  I  felt 
the  fatality  of  my  circumstances.  Standing  upon  the 
railroad  crossing  on  my  way  to  school,  my  mind  ran  over 
it  all  in  feverish  despair,  as  I  realized  that  to  remain  un- 
der my  present  circumstances  was  to  marry  that  man. 
To  run  away,  I  would  gladly  have  done  it,  if  I  had  known 
how,  and  where  to  go.  Ignorant  of  the  world  and  inex- 
perienced, where  could  I  turn  ?  I  thought  of  Mr.  Ray 
and  Mrs.  Grovesnor  and  her  son  Arthur,  and  oh,  how 
I  longed  to  tell  either  of  them  my  troubles  and  solicit 
their  aid! 

I  was  too  timid  to  tell  my  own  people,  in  the  face  of 
their  different  opinions,  or  it  might  have  ended  very 
differently,  for  they  were  far  too  good  to  have  forced 
me  into  it,  and  not  aware  that  my  love  for  them  caused 
me  to  make  such  a  sacrifice;  but  they  did  not  know 
my  heart,  and  I  could  not  tell  them.  Unaccustomed  to 
seeking  help  from  a  Higher  Power,  I  knew  not  how  all 
could  have  been  righted,  and  wisdom  given  to  guide  me 
right,    but   I    did    not   go    to   God.      I   had   not  yet   en- 


28  ONE  woman's  life. 

listed  under  his  banner,  but  was  a  stranger,  entering 
upon  one  of  life's  severest,  fiery  trials  to  brino-  me  into 
that  fold. 

Since  my  tenth  year  I  had  cherished  the  desire  to 
possess  the  hope  of  eternal  Hfe;  and  I  now  trusted  with 
Mr.  Roderick's  strong  arm  to  lead  and  guide  me  in  the 
right  way  the  hope  of  this  blessing  would  be  sure. 

School  ended  with  the  usual  ceremonies.  Becomingl}^ 
dressed  in  white  with  blue  ribbons  at  waist,  neck  and 
hair,  I  went  through  the  last  exercises.  I  read  my  com- 
position ;  the  subject,  "Twilight,"  suited  my  mood  on  that 
occasion.  I  spoke  of  the  twilight  of  the  soul  when 
we  pass  from  innocent  pleasures  into  the  power  of  sin  and 
darkness,  and  from  happiness  to  the  depths  of  despair. 
A  vein  of  deep  sadness  was  notable  throughout,  seeming 
a  presentiment,  as  it  were,  of  the  great  sorrow  in  store  for 
me.  The  ill  will  entertained  by  some  of  the  pupils  for 
Ada  and  m3'self,had  gradually  vanished,  and  we  were  now 
treated  with  consideration  and  kindness,  makinof  our  last 
weeks  of  school  life  only  too  pleasant.  Accompanied 
home  that  last  day  of  school  by  my  beloved  teacher, 
Mrs.  Grovesnor,  and  sharing  her  room  with  her  that 
night,  we  talked  into  the  "wee  sma'  hours."  I  wished  in 
my  heart  to  speak  to  her  of  Mr.  Roderick,  and  the 
promise  I  had  made  him,  but  the  words  died  on  my  lips. 
Many  times  in  after  years  did  I  regret  the  want  of  cour- 
age that  kept  me  silent.  Two  o'clock  found  us  pleas- 
antly chatting,  when  suddenly  our  window  became 
brilHantly  illuminated.  Hastily  arising,  we  found  that 
Mr.  Roderick's  store  was  burning  to  the  ground.  This 
incident    only  bound  me  more  firmly  to  my  promise,  as  I 


•     MAIDENHOOD.  2^ 

thought  it  would  be  cruel  to  forsake  him  in  adverse  cir- 
cumstances. 

Some  time  after  this  in  passing  him  on  the  street,  I 
experienced  a  strange  sensation,  wholly  unexplainable. 
His  face  wore  an  expression  that  I  had  never  noticed  before. 
Sudden  fear  took  possession  of  my  senses.  Hastening 
home,  almost  bewildered,  I  stood  in  the  doorway  several 
moments,  trying  to  resist  the  inclination  to  fly  and  thus 
escape  the  coming  union.  Silently  the  day  passed,  and 
the  evening  brought,  as  usual,  the  destroyer  of  my  peace. 
Watching  him  closely,  1  saw  nothing  in  his  appearance 
resembling  what  had  caused  my  alarm.  Attributing  my 
fear  to  a  foolish,  overwrought  imagination,  and  believ- 
ing my  plighted  word  too  sacred  to  be  broken,  Mr. 
Roderick  having  often  impressed  upon  me  that  it  would 
be  a  crime  to  break  an  engagement,  I  dismissed  the  un- 
pleasant thoughts,  and  for  the  time  they  were  forgotten. 
One  day  while  attending  a  camp-meeting,  in  company 
with  him  and  my  mother,  the  same  feeling  of  fer.r  over- 
whelmed me  with  an  irresistible  force  that  left  me  weak 
and  trembhng.  Looking  around  I  saw  Hattie  Grovesnor 
and  her  brother  Arthur  and  Mr.  Ray.  My  impulse  was 
to  flee  to  them  and  solicit  their  aid  in  escaping  the  im- 
pending evil  that  oppressed  my  heart.  But  the  thought 
of  exposing  my  inward  feelings  shamed  me  into  silence, 
rather  than  endure  the  publicity  of  my  affairs.  I  suc- 
ceeded in  stifling,  what  I  persuaded  myself,  was  a  weak 
and  foolish  idea,  and  afterwards  felt  ashamed  to  mention 
it.  For  the  benefit  of  my  readers  who  have  never  visited 
a  camp-ground,  I  will  describe  one.  They  are  in  the 
country  in  a  spot  of  cleared  ground,  surrounded  by  wood. 
In  the  center  there  is  a  large  arbor,  and  near  the  edge  of 


30  ONE  woman's  life. 

the  woods,  is  a  circle  of  huts  or  tents,  in  which  the  tent- 
holders  cook,  eat,  sleep  and  entertain  their  friends  and 
strangers,  in   a  truly   hospitable  way,  during  the  two  or 
three  weeks  of  the  meeting.     Large  crowds  gather  here 
from  far  and  near,  and   everything  dates   from    camp- 
meeting  time.     Several   ministers  preside,  and  by    their 
eloquence  or   persuasive  powers,   many  are    converted, 
A  great  display  of  dress  is  generally  noticeable;    some 
combine  elegance  and  good  taste,  but  the   majority  unite 
the  colors  of  the  rainbow,  with  their  dresses  cut  after  the 
fashion  of  our  grandmothers.     The  scene,  by  torch  light, 
is  solemn    and  weird.     Many    of  the   ignorant    scream, 
shout  and  laugh,  groan,    clap  their  hands,  stamp   their 
feet,  embrace  each  other,  jump  up  and  down,  and  do  all 
manner  of  absurd  looking  things.     The  hymns,  ringing 
out  on  the    night  air,  echoing  through  the  forests,  from 
hill  to  hill,  sound  sweet  and    mournful;  while  to  me,  the 
effect  is  sad  and  depressing. 

Yielding  to  Mr.  Roderick's  appeals  for  a  speedy 
marriage,  I  was  soon  busily  engaged  making  the  neces- 
sary preparations  which  are  to  most  girls  so  delightful, 
but  which  to  me  now  only  seemed  a  sad  duty. 

The  warm  sultry  days  of  summer  had  given  place  to 
the  gentle  breezes  of  the  autumn,  laden  with  the  odor  of 
dying  flowers  which  had  yielded  their  last  sweet  breath 
to  the  departing  season.  The  Indian  summer  had  come 
and  gone,  carrying  with  it  the  hazy  veil  in  whose  misty 
folds  all  nature  had  been  softly  sleeping.  The  day  which 
was  to  make  me  a  bride  dawned  with  a  dark  threatening 
sky,  the  rain  falling  drearily  down ;  the  very  earth 
seemed  shrouded  by  a  dismal  pall  as  if  all  nature  wept 
at   the  approaching  sacrifice.     Mr.  Roderick's   brother 


MAIDENHOOD,  31 

and  sister  had  arrived  the  day  previous,  and  when  I  saw 
them  my  childish  heart  felt  a  keen  disappointment. 
However,  we  had  been  informed  that  they  were  worthy 
people  and  descendants  of  the  best  families  of  the  State, 
and  I  did  my  utmost  to  make  everything  agreeable  to 
them.  A  few  intimate  friends  had  been  invited  and  were 
now  assembling,  with  the  venerable  clergyman,  Rev.  Mr. 
Paxton,  of  the  Presbyterian  church,  and  his  amiable 
wife.  The  rain  ceased  falling,  and  1  was  bade  make 
ready  for  the  wedding  ceremonies,  white  being  chosen 
for  my  dress.  I  was  soon  enveloped  in  its  soft  clinging 
folds,  with  rich  lace  falling  over  neck  and  arms.  Mr. 
Roderick  looked  better  than  I  had  ever  seen  him,  his 
face  wore  a  serenely  pleasant  expression,  and  I  was  led 
to  the  altar  with  a  trusting  heart,  believing  that  I  had 
won  one  of  earth's  noblest  and  best  ;  little  dreaming  that 
a  cloud,  fearful  in  its  blackness,  would  soon  overwhelm 
me.  The  words  were  pronounced  "  man  and  wife,"  and 
at  this  moment  the  sun  burst  forth  in  radiant  splendor, 
flooding  the  room  with  dazzling  light,  and  sending  a 
bright  gleam  full  upon  my  face.  "  A  good  omen,  a  good 
omen,"  sounded  amidst  the  congratulations  of  our  merry 
friends  ;  but  no  thrill  of  joy  pervaded  my  heart,  as  I 
quietly  received  their  good  wishes  for  our  future  liappi- 
ness.  There  were  two  others  present  who  seemed  sad 
and  thoughtful,  my  little  brother  Harry  who  retired  to  a 
secluded  spot  and  wept  bitterly,  and  my  bridesmaid  and 
faithful  friend,  Ada.  Running  to  my  room  about  ten 
o'clock  to  rearrange  my  hair,  standing  meditatively  be- 
fore the  glass,  I  again  saw  the  face  of  Mr.  Roderick 
wearing  a  wicked  and  repulsive  expression.  I  was  seized 
with  uncontrollable  fear    and  horror   of  the  man  I  had 


32  ONE  woman's  life. 

married,  and  obeying  a  sudden  impulse,  1  hastily  turned 
with  the  determination  to  leave  the  house  and  seek  pro- 
tection and  refuge  in  the  motherly  arms  of  INIrs.  Groves- 
nor,  when  a  voice  called  pride  urged,  "  You  will  be 
laughed  at.  What  will  your  friends  say  ?"  Discretion 
sighed,  ''It  is  not  safe  to  go  several  miles  alone  at  night," 
while  judgment  plainly  said,  "  You  are  his  wife  and  can- 
not escape;  you  must  yield  to  the  inevitable."  Regaining 
strength  and  self-possession,  I  quietly  rejoined  the  merry 
circle  in  the  parlor,  and  spoke  not  of  the  fearful  forebod- 
ing that  had  troubled  me.  Thus  ended  the  bright  hopes 
and  happy  da3-s  of  my  girlhood,  when  seventeen  sum- 
mers only  had  passed  over  my  head. 

"A  hungering  look  cast  backward, 
Into  the  days  gone  by, 
A  turning  to  the  future 
With  a  sad  and  anxious  eye." 

MEMORIES  OF  EDNA. 

My  thoughts  are  of  Edna,  a  slender  young  girl. 

With  round  happy  face  framed  about  in  curl. 

Cheeks  rosy  and  fringed  by  dark  lashes  long. 

Lips  ready  to  scold,  or  to  ring  with  song; 

With  ribbons  and  frocks,  e'er  matching  eyes  blue, 

Complexion  was  fair  and  teeth  pearly  hue,  ^ 

With  heart  loving  truth  and  honor  and  friend, 

E'er  dreaming  of  joys  that  heaven  might  send. 

While  books  were  to  Edna  a  source  of  delight, 
"No,  no,"  to  her  suiters  she  ever  would  write. 
When  they  questioned  "why"  oft  merrily  she  said, 
"Long  years  in  the  future  perhaps  1  may  wed; 
For  all  arts  so  useful  I  first  must  acquire. 
To  mount  wisdom's  heights  my  soul  doth  aspire; 
Your  hearts  then  for  me,  sirs,  pray  no  more  breaks 
At  some  fairer  shrine  your  love  may  awake." 


"  I  was  seized  with  uncontrollable  fear  and  horror  of  the  man  I 
had  just  married,  and  hastily  turned  with  the  determination  to 
leave  the  house." 


MAIDENHOOD.  35 

But  fortune's  strange  freak  with  many  a  wile, 
Brougiit  ome  to  Edna  with,  dreary  cold  smile, 
Her  age  he  had  doubled,  had  gray  sallow  skin, 
A  gloomy,  stern  visage,  'twas  both  gaunt  and  thin, 
Resolving  that  Edna  his  bride  he  would  make. 
This  object  to  gain,  false  steps  he  would  take; 
Her  mother's  kind  heart  he  won  by  shrewd  deed 
On  which  her  trustful  approval  did  feed. 

Her  mother  was  ill,  on  a  couch  she  reclined. 
Delusive  sad  fancies  infusing  her  mind. 
Her  fancies  were  these,  that  she  could  not  live. 
To  him  it  were  wise,  her  Edna  to  give; 
She  talks  oft  of  death,  of  dark  troubles  drear; 
The  tall  gloomy  man  poor  Edna  did  fear. 
Despondently,  Edna  doth  oft  lonely  weep; 
A  sad  timid  child,  with  courage  asleep. 

A  young  tender  heart  its  first  sorrow  knew, 
A  frail  slender  form — still  more  slender  grew; 
The  pale  silent  lips  did  nothing  but  sigh. 
And  sadness  shadowed  the  wistful  blue  eye; 
In  white  bridal  robes  at  length  Edna  stands. 
Her  bright  golden  curls  a  white  forehead  fans. 
With  frightened  wild  looks  she  turns  round  to  flee; 
But  alas!   alas!   it  is  never  to  be!, 

Her  bonds  are  now  sealed — forevermore  sealed; 
What  else  then  could  this  strange  marriage  yield? 
But  most  bitter  woe  a  future  life  long. 
And  sorrow  too  sacred  to  mention  in  song! 
That  dearest  friend,  mother,  always  at  hand 
Lies  sick  unto  death  in  a  far  distant  land; 
And  the  beautiful  castles  she  built  in  the  air, 
Had  flown  like  mists,  leaving  naught  but  despair. 


CHAPTER  III. 


■■Kas^i'^^'A,^^! 


WIFE  AND  MOTHER. 

"  Like  Niobe,  all  tears." 

HE  first  ten  months  of  my  married  life  were 
spent  under  my  father's  roof.  During  that 
time  I  was  frequently  shocked  by  the  strange 
fits  of  rage  indulged  in  by  Mr.  Roderick, 
whenever  he  found  me  enjoying  the  innocent 
pleasures  to  which  I  had  been  accustomed.  Greatly 
distressed  I  made  every  effort  to  please  him,  seldom 
leaving  his  side  during  his  leisure  moments,  as  he 
seemed  unhappy  in  my  absence.  My  life  was  robbed  of 
its  brightness  when  he  objected  severely  to  my  books, 
music  and  friends.  It  was  with  reluctance  that  he  allowed 
me  to  attend  Sabbath-school,  church,  and  the  benevolent 
societies  to  which  I  belonged.  I  thought  very  strange  of 
this,  but  my  faith  in  his  superior  judgment,  and  confidence 
in  his  professed  piety  being  yet  unshaken,  I  thought  he 
must  be  right  and  I  wrong. 

We  had  been  married  nearly  a  year  when  he  gave  up 
merchandising  and  moved  to  his  farm,  twenty  miles  from 
Old  Fort.  He  had  given  me  glowing  descriptions  of  the 
comforts  and  luxuries  of  farm  life,  and  excited  my  youth- 
ful ambition  to  secure  pleasures  not  attainable  elsewhere. 
When  I  began  housekeeping  in  our  new  home,  my  zealous 
energies  could  not  be  excelled.  "  Lonely  Retreat,"  was 
the  name  Brother  Bradley  gave  our  farm,  on  account  of 


WIFE   AND    MOTHER.  37 

its  loneliness  and  quiet  beauty.  Surrounded  by  trees  and 
hills,  it  was  indeed  isolated  ;  the  silence  in  the  evening 
being  broken  only  by  the  "  Whip-poor-will's"  plaintive 
cry,  and  the  dismal  hoot  of  the  owl.  Though  lonely  and 
isolated,  there  was  a  charm  in  its  green  fields,  clear 
brooks,  and  tall  trees,  in  whose  lofty  branches  many 
joyous  birds  sang,  "from  early  morn  till  dewy  eve." 

A  short  time  after  we  were  established  in  our  country 
home,  a  change  came  over  Mr.  Roderick's  spirits.  On 
returning,  after  a  short  absence  from  home,  he  announced 
his  presence  by  slamming  gates  and  doors  in  a  furious 
manner,  often  screaming  loudly  in  his  anger.  At  other 
times  he  returned  moody  and  silent,  especially  until  his 
appetite  was  appeased,  when  he  became  talkative  and 
pleasant.  His  fits  of  weeping  were  changed  to  violent 
bursts  of  temper,  often  using  abusive  and  threatening 
language  to  me,  and  against  members  of  my  family,  who 
had  never  wronged  him  by  thought,  word  or  deed.  Upon 
meeting  them,  much  to  my  relief,  his  manner  would 
change  and  become  affable  and  pleasant.  His  parents, 
bachelor  brother  and  sisters,  lived  within  a  few  miles, 
and  paid  us  frequent  visits.  I  found  them  very  poor, 
ignorant  and  coarse,  and  without  any  mental  or  social 
training.  They  were  hard  working,  and  I  believed, 
honest  people  in  their  way,  which  called  forth  my  respect 
and  pity  for  their  ignorance  and  hard  lot  in  life. 

Three  of  his  sisters  were  widow^s  with  small  children, 
two  spinsters,  ages  unknown,  and  one  married.  They 
informed  me  that  Mr.  Roderick  had  been  afl^icted  in 
boyhood,  and  being  the  first  son  after  so  many  daughters, 
had  secured  some  advantages  of  education,  from  which 
they    had    been    debarred.     He    had    been    allowed    to 


38  ONE  woman's  life. 

domineer  over,  and  control  the  entire  family,  his  every 
whim  and  caprice  being  gratified.  One  sister  also  warned 
me  never  to  act  contrary  to  his  wishes,  as  he  had  a  strange 
disposition.  I  received  this  intelligence  with  some  sur- 
prise, it  being  given  before  I  had  discovered  the  whole 
truth.  Naturally  affectionate,  my  heart  had  to  lean  upon 
and  trust  some  one,  and  now  I  was  fond  of  my  husband, 
eagerly  awaiting  his  homecoming,  and  hurt  and  dis- 
appointed when  I  perceived  the  great  change  in  him. 
Dropping  the  gentlemanly  guise  of  speech,  manner  and 
dress  he  had  assumed,  he  soon  fell  into  the  old  rough 
habits  of  former  days.  Having  no  regard  whatever  for 
personal  appearance,  he  allowed  his  hair  and  beard  to 
grow  to  an  unusual  length,  and  wore  garments  that  a 
beggar  would  blush  to  look  upon.  All  this  was  very 
humiliating  and  distasteful  to  me,  especially  when  he 
objected  to  any  system  or  order  in  our  house.  On 
becoming  acquainted  with  the  inhabitants  of  our  settle- 
ment, I  found  them,  with  few  exceptions,  poor  and  un- 
cultivated; many  of  the  women  being  compelled  to 
perform  rOugh  labor,  such  as  ploughing,  hoeing,  chopping 
wood,  etc.,  while  their  husbands  and  masters  spent  the 
greater  portion  of  their  time  hunting,  or  loafing  in  the 
nearest  town.  A.s  I  did  not  and  could  not  work  in  this 
way,  many  of  m}'-  neighbors  united  with  Mr.  Roderick's 
sisters  in  calling  me  ^'lazy  and  stuck-up."  They  con- 
sidered Mr.  Roderick  a  remarkably  kind  and  indulgent 
husband  because  he  had  not  as  yet  required  it  of  me, 
though  I  did  all  of  my  household  work  without  the  help 
of  a  servant. 

It  was  a  common  sight  to  see  a  thinly  clad,  worn-look- 
ing mother  following  her  husband  to  the  field,  one  infan 


WIFE    AND   MOTHER.  39 

in  her  arms  and  two  or  three  clinging  to  her  skirts. 
Leaving  them  under  some  tree,  or  in  a  fence  corner,  she 
would  plough,  or  follow  the  plough,  planting  or  hoeing 
until  noon.  Then  while  her  husband  is  resting  on  the 
bed,  or  under  some  shade  tree,  she  carries  bark  and 
water  and  prepares  their  frugal  meal.  After  dinner, 
before  she  has  had  time  to  rest,  they  trudge  to  the  field 
again,  and  work  until  dark.  Then  with  the  baby  in  one 
arm,  and  a  load  of  bark  in  the  other,  she  goes  home — 
prepares  supper,  makes  up  the  beds,  puts  the  little  ones 
to  sleep;  and  when  she  ought  to  be  at  rest,  finds  a  day's 
work  before  her.  She  sits  up  far  into  the  night  spinning 
and  weaving,  and  piecing  quilts.  These  poor  women 
look  old  and  faded  long  before  their  prime.  They  are 
deprived  of  every  comfort  and  pleasure  that  is  calculated 
to  keep  "roses  on  the  cheek,  and  brightness  in  the  eye." 

"Work,  work,  while  the  cock  is  crowing  aloof. 

And  work,  work,  work,  'till  the  stars  shine  through  the  roof; 

It's  oh  to  be  a  slave  along  with  the  barbarous  Turk, 

Where  woman  has  never  a  soul  to  save,  if  this  is  Christian  work; 

Oh  men  with  sisters  clear,  Oh  men  with  mothers  and  wives, 

It  is  not  the  linen  you  are  wearing  out,  but  human  creatures  lives: 

Stitch,  stitch,  stitch,  in  poverty,  hunger  and  dirt, 

Sewing  at  once  with  a  double  tljread,  a  shroud  as  well  as  a  shirt." 

Under  the  influence  of  a  mild  southern  climate,  my 
father's  health  rapidly  improved,  enabling  him  to  engage 
in  active  business  again.  Not  wishing  to  return  North, 
he  joined  a  company  formed  at  Shelby,  N.  C,  an 
attractive  town  situated  south  of  us,  level  and  beauti- 
fully located,  and  with  the  assistance  of  my  two  oldest 
brothers,  built  the  "  Carolina  Sewing  Machine,"  the  first 
sewing  machine  ever  manufactured  in  the  South.    Think- 


40  ONE  woman's  life. 

ing  it  best  not  to  move   my  mother  and   little  brothers 
until  the  venture  was  tested,  he  concluded  to  leave  them 
with  Mr.  Roderick   and   myself.     Mr.  Roderick  seemed 
very  desirous  for  such  an  arrangement.     I  knew  that  my 
mother  was  not  aware  of  his  changed  condition,  and  felt 
greatly   troubled    over   the    possible   discovery  and  the 
manner   in    which    she    would  receive  it.     Already  the 
seeds  of  disappointment  and  wounded  pride  rankled  deep 
in  my  heart.     But  my    mistake  was  irrevocable;  he  was 
my   husband,  therefore  I  jealously  guarded  his  imper- 
fections from  my  friends.     My  mother  had  been  with  us 
about    three   months  before  he  gave  vent  to  his  latent 
passion.     Many  violent    scenes   followed   the    first    out- 
break ;  yet  no  comments  passed  between  mother  and  child. 
My  secret  was  revealed,  and  I  waited  in  fearful  suspense 
my   mother's  opinion;  yet  dreading  and  avoiding  a  con- 
versation on  the  subject,  I  determined  not  to  speak  first. 
My  father   was   paying  the  expenses   of  his    family,  but 
suggested  that   Charley  and  Harry   assist  Mr.  Roderick 
on  the  farm.    He  believed  it  would  foster  habits  of  industry, 
strengthen  the  muscles,  keep  them  from  mischief,  and  at 
the  same  time  aid  and  please  Mr.  Roderick.     Harry,  who 
was  twelve  years  old,  was  kind,  obedient  and  willing  to 
do  his  full  duty.     Charley  was  nine  years  old,  fond   of 
books,  but  less  willing  to  work.     His  studious  habits  and 
enthusiastic    zeal    often    caused    remark.     Finally    Mr. 
Roderick's  anger  turned  upon  innocent  Harry,  when  my 
mother  could  no  longer  hold  her  peace.     She  spoke  freely 
of  his  cruelty  and  strange  conduct.     I  could  not  deny  what 
was  so  evident  ;  and  when  Mr.  Roderick    became  harsh 
and  unkind  to  Harry  during  an  attack  of  whooping-cough, 
imposing  heavy  tasks  upon  him,  doubting  his  illness,  our 


WIFE    AND    MOTHER.  41 

hearts  filled  to  overflowing  and  we  mingled  our  tears 
while  we  consulted  what  was  best  to  be  done.  Soon  after 
a  violent  outburst  of  temper,  with  terrible  threats  against 
myself,  a  pretty  blue-eyed  daughter  was  given  me.  When 
the  dear  little  form,  with  dimpled  cheeks,  was  placed  in 
my  arms,  the  long  yearning  for  a  sister  was  gratified. 

One  of  my  childhood's  fondest  dreams, 

Was  for  a  sister  kind  and  true, 
None  "R'as  given  me;  5'et  it  seems, 

God  answered  in  the  gift  of  you. 

Now  mayest  thou  prove  a  precious  gem, 

And  may  no  sorrow  thy  life  mar, 
A  gift  from  G-od,  my  prayer  is  then. 

Bright  may  thy  life  be,  Stella,  Star. 

Though  happy  in  the  possession  of  such  a  treasure,, 
in  my  weakness  I  could  not  repress  the  bitter  tears  of 
anguish  over  the  unkindness  of  its  father,  and  my  hope- 
less mistake. 

Stella,  the  name  given  baby  by  mj^  mother,  was  but 
one  month  old  when  my  father  came  for  his  family. 
Mother's  health  had  been  restored,  and  her  mind  was  in  its 
normal  state  again.  Her  distress  at  leaving  me  was  great^ 
for  her  perceptive  mind  saw  further  than  mine,  and  un- 
derstood the  danger  I  was  in  of  being  violently  stricken 
down  by  Mr.  Roderick.  On  her  departure  she  begged 
me  not  to  do  or  say  anything  contrary  to  his  opinion,  and 
repeatedly  warned  me  of  every  danger.  I  could  not  be- 
lieve that  he  would  strike  me,  so  I  made  no  promises. 
Sorrow  had  crushed  the  feeling  of  anger  and  resentment 
I  might  have  cherished  under  different  circumstances;  but 
my  pride  and  self-respect  cried  out,  "  Am  I  to  suffer  a 
life  of  martyrdom  ?     No,  a  thousand  times  no!  I  will  de- 


42  ONE  woman's  life. 

fend  myself."  So  my  mother  left  me  with  a  troubled 
heart.  Standing  in  the  door,  I  could  see  her  anxious  face 
looking  back  until  a  bend  in  the  road  hid  her  from  my 
view.  I  was  left  lonely  and  friendless  in  a  strange  coun- 
try. In  justice  to  my  father  and  older  brothers  I  would 
say  that  they  were  yet  in  ignorance  of  what  had  happened, 
and  were  very  angry  when  they  learned  the  truth. 

My  servant  remained  one  week,  when  she  left  without 
a  word  of  warning.  Sunday  morning  found  me  trying 
to  perform  my  household  duties,  and  care  for  my  infant- 
My  morning  work  finished,  and  baby  laid  in  her  crib,  I 
sat  by  a  window  to  rest,  feeling  lonely  and  desolate  for 
pleasant,  congenial  society,  from  which  I  had  been  de- 
prived for  so  many  dreary  months.  Though  not  a  pro- 
fessed follower  of  Christ,  I  had  always  received  comfort 
and  consolation  from  the  clergyman's  holy  teachings,  and 
enjoyed  the  sacred  hymns  of  praise.  Memories  that  had 
lightly  slumbered  were  disturbed,  and  glowing  pictures 
of  former  days,  contrasting  strangely  with  the  bitter 
yearnings  of  the  present,  arose  before  me.  While  thus 
occupied,  a  scene  transpired  so  fearful  that  even  now  I 
cannot  recall  it  without  shudderings  of  horror.  Mr.  Rod- 
erick having  returned  from  a  walk  over  the  plantation, 
sat  down  on  the  steps  and  dilated  upon  the  advantages  of 
farming.  My  attention  was  attracted,  and  1  could  but  no- 
tice his  slovenly  appearance.  Coatless,  long,  straggling 
hair,  rough  beard,  torn  hat  and  shoes,  he  presented  a  pict- 
ure not  calculated  to  inspire  one  with  pleasant  thoughts. 
I  could  not  repress  a  sigh  and  a  feeling  of  aversion  which 
forced  its  way  into  my  heart.  Noticing  my  silence, 
he  asked,  "  What  ails  you  ? "  "  Nothing,"  I  rephed, 
^'  only  that  I  am  lonesome."     "  Lonesome,"  he  said,  while 


WIFE    AND    MOTHER.  43 

his  face  turned  white  with  rage.  "  You  ought  to  have 
some  of  your  charming  people  here,  then  you  wouldn't 
be  lonely."  The  sneer  implied  in  his  words  stung  me, 
and  1  hastily  retorted,  "I  only  wish  they  were  here." 
*^  For  me  to  wait  on  ?"  he  said.  I  replied,  "  Why,  Mr. 
Roderick,  how  can  you  say  such  a  thing  when  my  mother 
and  brothers  helped  you  so  much  ?  "  *'  It's  a  lie,"  he 
thundered.  Then  followed  a  volley  of  imprecations  filled 
with  threats  against  them  and  myself,  and  finishing  his 
accusations  by  charging  me  with  pride,  deceit  and  every 
form  of  hypocrisy,  he  said,  sneeringly,  "  Haven't  I  got  a 
a  pretty  wife  ?"  His  brutal  language  roused  the  anger 
that  had  lain  dormant  under  its  covering  of  sorrow;  mim- 
icking his  words  and  tones,  I  replied,  "  Yes,  and  haven't 
I  got  a  pretty  husband  ?  "  The  words  had  scarcely  left 
my  lips  when  a  horrible  apparition  arose  before  me. 
Stricken  speechless,  I  could  only  watch  in  terror  the  ap- 
proaching form,  which  seemed  inhuman  in  its  fearful 
loathsomeness.  A  figure,  drawn  double  with  rage,  livid 
facCj  eyes  blazing  with  a  fearful  demoniac  glare,  white 
lips,  drawn  back,  leaving  the  large,  glassy  teeth  and 
gums  exposed,  with  a  peculiar  jumping  or  jerking  step, 
he  approached.  Clutching  my  arm,  he  raised  his  hand 
to  strike  me.  Instinctively  I  felt  that  calmness  was  my 
only  hope  of  escape.  I  looked  firmly  into  the  murder- 
ous eyes,  now  leering  close  above  mine,  and  bade  him 
leave  me  alone. 

My  composure  kept  the  cruel  blows  from  faUing.  In 
a  few  seconds,  which  seemed  ages  to  my  excited  fancy* 
he  obeyed  my  command.  Though  still  bent  and  moan- 
ing with  rage,  he  crept  to  the  bed,  threw  himself,  face 
downward,  while  he  screamed,  groaned  and  ordered  me 


44  ONE  woman's  life. 

to  leave  the  house.  Fear  more  horrible  than  I  had  3'et 
experienced  thrilled  through  every  nerve  as  I  realized  that 
I  was  alone  and  in  the  power  of  a  cruel  madman.  Con- 
scious that  my  life  was  at  stake,  that  self-possession  was 
my  only  hope,  though  nearly  paralyzed  with  fear,  I 
quietly  and  steadily  passed  the  bed  where  he  lay  writh- 
ing and  groaning  in  a  way  sufficient  to  strike  terror  in  a 
much  stouter  heart  than  mine.  Clasping  my  infant  close 
in  my  arms,  I  paused  at  the  door,  not  knowing  where  to 
go  or  v/hat  to  do.  My  first  impulse  was  to  flee  to  my 
nearest  neighbor,  Mr.  Holland,  who  lived  a  half  mile 
distant.  But  I  argued,  "  Perhaps  they  will  not  believe 
this  wild  story;  I  am  a  stranger,  he  their  countryman, 
and  always  kind  and  courteous  to  them  and  to  me  in  their 
presence."  These  thoughts  flashed  rapidly  through  my 
mind,  and  taking  the  only  course  left,  I  ran  rapidly  down 
the  hill,  over  the  creek  and  meadow,  until  I  reached  the 
dark  woods.  They  presented  a  new  terror,  and,  seating 
myself  on  a  fallen  tree,  I  wept  bitter,  scalding  tears  of 
fear,  sorrow  and  disappointment  over  the  helpless  little 
creature  nestling  so  close  in  my  arms,  and  gazing  at  me, 
as  it  were,  in  silent  wonder. 

"  What  will  become  of  you,  my  poor  little  girl  ?"  were 
the  thoughts  and  words  flitting  through  my  tortured 
brain.  I  had  been  sitting  some  time  absorbed  in  my 
grief  when  I  noticed  Mr.  Roderick  coming  toward  me.  I 
could  not  escape  him,  and  as  he  approached,  I  saw 
with  joy  that  he  was  walking  erect  and  quietly.  Every 
trace  of  anger  had  left  his  face.  He  drew  near  and 
mildly  bade  me  give  him  the  child  and  go  with  him  to 
the  house.  Trembling,  I  hesitatingly  placed  Stella  in  his 
arms  and  returned  with  him,  neither  of  us  speaking  on  the 


WIFE   AND   MOTHER.  45 

way.  During  the  succeeding  weeks  a  deep  gloom  settled 
over  my  mind.  The  fear,  anguish  and  despair  I  suffered 
submerged  my  whole  being  in  blinding  tears  which  fell 
on  the  work  and  books  in  which  I  fruitlessly  tried  to  for- 
get my  great  sorrow.  My  dear  little  babe  looked  in 
vain  for  smiles  while  her  eyes  followed  me  pathetically, 
I  imagined  sadly,  as  I  carried  my  uncontrollable  grief. 
My  nervous  system  had  received  a  shock  from  which  it 
never  recovered,  and  as  the  days  wore  wearily  away,  my 
sorrow  became  more  overpowering;  but  I  stifled  every 
appearance  of  distress  when  in  the  presence  of  Mr.  Rod- 
erick, and  liv&d  in  mortal  dread  of  his  displeasure.  I 
had  no  way  of  communicating  with  my  parents,  as  he 
carried  all  letters  to  and  from  the  country  post-ofhce.  I 
also  labored  under  the  impression  that  I  had  not  a  friend 
in  whom  I  could  confide,  as  Mr.  Roderick  had  repeatedly 
told  me  that  I  was  disliked  by  every  one  in  the  neighbor- 
hood, and  I  was  also  mortified  by  the  unwomanly  words 
I  had  given  utterance  to  causing  his  fit  of  passion,  and 
had  always  entertained  feelings  of  disgust  and  shame  for 
husbands  and  wives  who  could  not  agree,  and  had  promised 
myself  never  to  be  guilty  again  of  conduct  so  disgraceful. 
The  above  reasons  combined,  sealed  my  lips,  while  a 
strong  desire  filled  my  heart  for  the  old  home  life.  Could 
I  ever  again  join  in  the  pleasures  of  the  home  circle  it 
seemed  that  my  joy  would  be  equal  to  the  bliss  of  enter- 
ing Paradise.  The  deep  solitude  around  filled  my  soul 
with  dread,  while  the  mountains  looked  bleak,  dismal  and 
gloomy.  Twice  in  my  rambles  I  encountered  a  huge 
poisonous  snake  lying  coiled  with  head  raised,  mouth 
widely  spread,  from  which  protruded  the  forked  tongue. 
This  only  added  to  my  alarm  and  utter  helplessness  and 


46  ONE  woman's  life. 

hopelessness.  I  also  suffered  from  the  want  of  suitable 
food.  That  which  was  provided  was  so  coarse  and  un- 
like any  I  had  seen  that  my  appetite  refused  it;  conse- 
quently I  frequently  felt  the  pangs  of  hunger. 

One  day,  late  in  the  autumn,  while  sitting  alone  with 
bedewed  eyes,  my  ears  caught  the  sound  of  carriage 
wheels.  Drying  my  tears  hurriedly  I  hastened  to  the 
door,  where  I  recognized  the  kind  benevolent  face  of  my 
father.  Never  was  a  sight  more  welcome.  And  when 
he  told  me  that  he  had  come  to  take  me  home,  and  I  felt  that 
the  prison  bars  were  broken ,  I  could  scarcely  realize  my  hap- 
piness. I  waited  with  fainting  heart  and  abated  breath 
the  answer  Mr.  Roderick  would  give  to  my  father's  re- 
quest. Finally  a  reluctant  consent  was  granted,  and  I 
was  seated  in  the  carriage  homeward  bound;  but  I  was 
afraid  to  look  back  and  nervous  when  the  horses  slack- 
ened their  speed,  for  fear  that  Mr.  Roderick  would  change 
his  mind  and  call  me  back.  Every  hill  we  crossed  and 
every  mile  we  gained  enabled  me  to  breathe  more  freely, 
as  it  placed  a  barrier  between  me  and  his  dreaded  face. 
I  could  not  tell  my  father  what  had  happened  for  want  of 
courage.  But  I  remarked  many  times  that  I  could  never 
again  cross  those  lonely,  dreary  hills.  "Why  do  you 
dislike  them  so  much?"  he  asked.  I  could  only  answer 
that  I  had  been  so  lonely  among  them.  Then  he  tried 
to  cheer  me  by  giving  a  description  of  his  boyhood's 
home,  his  courtship  and  marriage  with  my  mother,  a 
pleasant  account  of  their  new  home  in  Shelby,  their 
bright  business  prospects  and  the  kindness  of  the  Shelby 
people. 

Home  at  last!     Oh,  that  sweet  word — Home! 


WIFE   AND    MOTHER  47 

"Home  is  not  merely  four  square  walls, 

Though  with  pictures  hung  and  gilded; 
Home  is  where  affection  calls — 

Filled  with  sihrines  the  heart  hath  builded; 
Home,  go  watch  the  faithful  dove, 

Sailing  'neath  the  heaven  above  us, 
Home  is  where  there  are  those  to  love, 

Home  is  where  there  are  those  to  love  us." 

Home  at  last  and  safe  within  those  sheltering  walls 
surrounded  by  kind  sympathizing  faces  and  pleasant,  as- 
sociations, one  would  think  that  my  happy  youth  would 
be  renewed.  But  not  so;  I  could  not  smile  and  often 
crept  away  to  some  lonely  corner  to  hide  my  tears.  One 
day  while  trying  to  conceal  my  emotion  from  my  mother 
she  suddenly  said,  "Edna,  what  ails  you?  Why  do  you 
weep  so  much? "  These  questions  forced  the  truth  from 
me.  Trembling  and  in  broken  accents  I  tried  to  tell  her  of 
the  terrible  scene  I  had  passed  through.  She  ex- 
pressed little  surprise  as  she  had  a  foretaste  of  it  during 
her  stay  with  me  previous  to  that  time.  She  said  I  must 
not  return  to  him.  But  I  replied,  he  would  kill  me  or 
some  of  my  people  if  I  dared  to  leave  him  and  would 
probably  steal  my  little  girl.  She  argued  that  I  should 
be  sent  to  my  aunt  in  Canada  where  he  could  never  tind 
me.  But  in  my  blindness,  weakness  and  despair,  I  said,. 
"I  cannot  go  and  leave  you  and  father  to  bear  his  fury. 
Everyone  will  believe  and  help  him.  What  can  you  do 
against  so  many?"  My  mother  made  my  unhappy  condi- 
tion known  to  the  rest  of  my  family,  and  all  united  in  say- 
ing I  should  not  return.  My  parents  had  advised  me  to 
marry  Mr.  Roderick.  I  was  afraid  to  trust  to  their  judg- 
ment again,  fearing  they  might  be  mistaken  and  I  had  not 
as  yet  gained  the  wisdom  from   my  heavenly  Parent  to 


48  ONE  woman's  life. 

guide  me  "through  all  trials."  Blind  child  that  I  was,  all 
these  years  of  misery  might  have  been  spared  me.  My 
mind  seemed  to  me  under  a  pall  so  dark  and  dense  that  I 
could  not  throw  off  its  enshrouding  folds  and  be  my 
natural  self.  I  could  not  endure  the  thoughts  of  Stella 
being  torn  from  my  arms,  and  carried  to  a  fate  pictured 
so  fearful  by  my  imagination.  My  father  was  delicate 
and  weak,  I  could  not  go  away  and  leave  him  to  be 
murdered,  as  I  anticipated  he  would  be.  No,  I  would 
not  sacrifice  him,  my  kind,  dear  father  to  save  myself. 
They  failed  to  discover  the  true  state  of  affairs — for  I 
could  not  paint  it  as  black  as  it  was,  and — after  much 
pleading  on  my  part,  allowed  me  to  have  my  own  way  and 
go  with  him  again  to  the  gates  of  misery  and  woe. 

LONELY  RETREAT. 

In  a  lovely  green  vale,  called  "Lonely  Retreat," 
"With  bright  blossoms  filled  both  fragrant  and  sweet. 
The  mocking  birds'  song  rings  out  o'er  the  hills, 
Tall  trees,  shading  brooks,  green  meadofws  and  rills. 
There  stood  a  dwelling,  so  gloomy  and  drear, 
Ungainly  it  stood,  in  appearance  no  cheer. 
My  story  will  tell  of  a  brigiht  Sabbath  morn, 
A  young  wife  who  sat  so  sad  and  forlorn. 

"With  small  girlish  figure  robed  daintily  neat. 
The  sun  kissed  the  bronze  head  and  played  at  her  feet. 
A  far  distant  look  in  the  dreamy  blue  eyes; 
And  misty  her  future — for  curtained  it  lies — 
A  footstep  She  hears,  from  reveries  she's  drawn, 
The  form  of  a  man  appears  on  the  lawn, 
Whose  strange  hidden  ways  bring  sighs  for  her  wrong, 
Her  face  betrays  naught,  though  weak,  she  is  strong. 

Betrays  not  the  pang  from  sorrow's  fierce  dart, 
At  sight  of  his  face,  that  entered  her  heart, 


WIFE   AND    MOTHER.  49 

■She  watched  him  in  sorrow,  this  husband,  her  fate, 
As  he  sat  on  the  step,  talldtig  o'er  his  estate; 
Her  silence  was  noticed.     "What  is  it?"  he  cried. 
"Not  anything  much,  but  loinely,"  she  sighed. 
Then  Quiclily  she  starts,  her  cheelts  and  lips  pale, 
A  sight  met  her  gaze,  that  made  her  strength  fail. 

•Cold,  speechless  she  sat,  all  fainting  with  fear. 
The  frightful  object  toward  her  drew  near; 
Figure  drawn  double  with  short  jerking  step 
His  head  thrown  backward,  he  moaned  as  he  crept; 
Lips  drawn  from  the  teeth,  left  gums  red  and  bare; 
A  face  livid  with  rage,  then  o'er  her  did  glare, 
In  wild  lurid  eyes  shone  a  dangerous  light, 
One  hand  caught  her  arm,  one  lifted  to  strike. 

Grasped  by  a  wild  man,  far  from  a  friend! 
G-od  saw  her  danger  while  strength  he  did  send. 
And  no  outward  sign  of  fear  did  sihe  show, 
'Quiet,  possessed,  bade  him  from  her  to  go; 
Then  turning  he  crept,  still  moaning  with  rage 
To  a  bed  standing  near,  like  a  wild  beast  in  a  cage. 
Gave  vent  to  loud  moans,  to  sitrange  and  harsh  cries. 
To  reach  her  dear  babe  she  must  pass  where  he  lies. 

Her  safety  she  knew,  in  instant  flight  lay. 
Her  life  was  in  peril,  she  must  haste  away; 
Quickly  she  passed,  where  he  lay  screaming  wild. 
And  clasped  In  her  arms  her  one  little  child. 
She  paused  at  the  door  one  instant  to  see 
What  course  to  pursue,  oh!  where  could  she  flee? 
Down  hills  and  o'er  streams  the  frightened  girl  flew 
With  heart  throbbing  wild,  with  steps  fleet  and  true. 

Approaching  the  wood,  her  strength  failing  fast. 
She  peered  through  the  gloom  the  foliage  cast. 
To  enter  their  depths,  her  infant  would  die 
With  hunger  and  cold,  oh!  where  could  she  fly? 
Then  fainting  she  sank,  while  sobs  her  heart  rent. 
Homesick  and  weary  to  grief  she  gave  vent. 
When  coming  she  saw  so  dimly  through  tears 
Him  sihe  had  fled  from,  which  strengthened  her  fears. 
4 


50  ONE  woman's  life. 

Too  exhausted  to  rise;  for  (her  he  would  seek, 
'Twas  useless  to  fly,  he  was  strong  and  she  weak; 
Nearer,  still  nearer,  her  heart  turned  to  lead, 
In  amazement  she  saw  what  lessened  her  dread. 
He  walked  quite  erect,  was  quieit  and  mild, 
Spoke  kindly  and  said,  "Come,  give  me  tihe  child." 
Then  anxious  she  glanced  straight  into  his  face. 
Saw  nothang  to  fear,  of  anger  no  trace. 

Weeks  amd  months  followed,  the  lonely  wife  wept. 
Shades  of  a  drear  future  around  her  heart  crept; 
With  needles  and  books  she'd  drive  away  fears, 
Yet  vainly  she  triefl  so  blinded  by  tears. 
Her  babe's  small  face  now  oft  to  her  turns 
For  mother's  fond  words,  for  mother's  smile  yearns; 
No  fond  word  is  spoken,  not  a  smile  nor  a  sons. 
For  the  frail  sweet  babe  for  them  waiting  long. 

Leaves  of  autumn  now  fall,  twilight  shadows  cast, 
The  sound  of  a  carriage  sets  her  heart  hearting  fast. 
Her  father  was  coming,  she  brushed  back  a  tear 
His  face  seemed  never  to  her  half  so  dear. 
In  the  carriage  seat  now,  so  close  by  his  -side 
To  mother  and  home,  o'er  the  mountains  they  ride. 
"My  father,"  she  said,  "I  can  never  here  stay, 
These  cold,  dismal  hills  fill  my  soul  with  dismay." 

Horror  came  o'er  her,  she  spoke  not  asain, 
Her  lips  pressed  firmly  revealed  not  her  pain. 
Voices  of  loved  ones  now  fall  on  her  ear, 
Familiar  hoime  fax;es  sought  'her  to  ctieer, 
Promised  protection,  home,  comfort  and  love; 
In  every  direction  one  face  glared  above, 
His  cruel  threats  sounded  and  lurid  eyes  gleam 
The  extent  of  'her  grief  her  friends  never  dream. 

Her  dear  father's  life  he  had  threatened  to  take 
Her  father  was  aged,  in  strength  could  not  mate, 
He'd  follow  and  steal  tier  one  little  yirl. 
Oppressed  by  the  darkness,  her  brain  seemed  to  whirl. 


WIFE    AND    MOTHER.  5l 

She'd  sacrifice,  never  those  friends  she  loved  well 
Preferring  to  suffer  whatever  befell, 
"We're  strangers,"  she  said,  "and  no  friend  is  near," 
Then  to  their  entreaties  she  turned  a  deaf  ear. 

A  wistful  sad  look  shone  from  the  blue  eyes. 

Her  smiles  and  her  songs  were  replaced  by  sighs. 

While  deep  in  her  soul  and  over  her  face 

Dark  sorrow  had  laid  its  withering  trace; 

Her  hopes  were  blighted  forever  more  still. 

In  silence  and  pain  she  returned  o'er  the  hill. 

So  cold  neighbors  said,  "pride  ruined  her  life,"  \ 

They  knew  not  the  grief  of  the  unhappy  wife. 

Mr.  Roderick  seemed  to  understand  that  he  had  gone 
too  far,  and  was  now  more  kind  and  pleasant,  and  prom- 
ised me  in  a  year's  time  to  move  back  to  Shelby,  the  home 
of  my  parents.     The  year  passed  without  serious  disturb- 
ance.    The    presence  of  his  cousin   Henry,   who  joined 
in  farming,  afforded  a  shield   against  violent  acts,  and  I 
was  visited  frequently  by  members  of  my  family,  who  al- 
ways brought  nice  presents,  consisting  generally  of  wear- 
ing apparel,  Mr.   Roderick  having   failed  to  supply  me 
with  suitable  clothing.     About  this  time  brother  Edgar 
brought  me  a  present  which  I  had  so  craved — a  dear  sis- 
ter.    Having  fallen  in  love  with  a  gentle  orphan   girl  in 
the  city  of  Charlotte,  he  married  and  brought  her  to  see 
me.     Never  will  I  forget  the  sweet  picture  she  presented 
when  I  eagerly  hastened  to  meet  them.     A  small  slight 
figure,  graceful  in  every  outline,  with  a  pure  dehcate  face 
framed  in  masses  of  dark  waving  brown  hair,  while  her 
expression  was  peculiarly  sad,  sweet  and  spiritual.  Again 
Edgar  urged  the  necessity  of  my  leaving  Mr.  Roderick, 
saying  that  he  was  a  lunatic,  and  that  sometime  I  would 
have  to  leave  him  to  save  my  life. 


52  '        ONE  woman's  life. 

My  reason  was  ruled  by  the  demon  fear  for  my  child 
and  my  people,  which  took  my  strength,  and  shook  my 
frame  like  a  reed.  I  had  not  as  yet  asked  God  to  help 
and  direct  me,  but  was  depending  on  my  own  judgment, 
and  I  replied  that  it  was  impossible.  In  his  fearless 
strength  he  could  not  understand  my  weakness,  and  be- 
lieving that  affection  for  Mr.  Roderick  caused  my  non- 
compliance with  his  wish  he  allowed  the  subject  to  drop. 
Shortly  after  they  left,  my  mother  paid  me  a  visit,  accom- 
panied by  iNlr.  Wills,  an  intelligent  pleasant  northern 
gentleman,  who  was  traveling  in  the  South  for  his  health 
and  pleasure.  He  seemed  delighted  with  everything,  es- 
pecially with  Stella,  and  gave  us  brilliant  descriptions  of 
his  Philadelphia  home. 

On  one  occasion  about  this  time  I  met  my  former 
teacher,  Mrs.  Grovesnor,  and  all  of  my  Old  Fort  friends; 
but  no  word  passed  my  Hps  of  my  unhappy  life.  Doubt- 
ing the  friendship  of  everyone  (for  Mr.  Roderick  had 
made  me  believe  that  no  one  liked  me),  surprised  when 
spoken  kindly  to,  I  usually  appeared  cold  and  silent, 
keeping  at  a  distance  those  who  might  have  been  my 
friends.  This  was  caused  by  the  poison  Mr.  Roderick  was 
constantly  dropping  into  my  ear. 

Our  first  year  in  Shelby  was  spent  with  my  parents. 
Mr.  Roderick's  moods  during  this  time  were  as  "variable 
as  the  shade  by  the  light  quivering  aspen  made."  Part 
of  this  time  he  was  pleasant,  courteous  and  kind,  and  then 
again  quarrelsome,  gloomy  and  morose,  destroying  the 
hopes  which  sprang  in  my  heart  during  his  peaceful 
hours.  His  gloomy  face,  and  his  watchful  jealous  eyes 
followed  me  every  moment,  preventing  me  from  enjoy- 


WIFE    AND    MOTHER.  53 

ing  the  music,  cheerful  society,  and  comforts  by  which  I 
was  surrounded,  and  kept  me  sad  and  silent. 

Soon  after  the  birth  of  Earnest,  my  second  child,  my 
eyes  became  seriously  affected,  confining  me  to  a  lonely 
darkened  room  for  months,  and  I  was  finally  thrown  into 
typhoid  fever,  which  came  near  ending  my  fife.  Baby 
Earnest  and  brother  Harry  were  also  dangerously  ill  at 
this  time,  with  fever,  which  caused  great  distress  in  our 
family.  Mr.  Roderick  was  very  attentive  during  this 
illness,  but  distressed  me  much  by  his  harsh  language' 
and  threats  to  whip  little  Earnest,  whose  wailing  cries 
annoyed  him.  When  I  recovered  sufficiently  to  notice 
the  wasted  little  form,  with  pale,  sunken  cheeks,  I  thought 
my  heart  would  break. 

The  second  year  of  our  stay  in  Shelby  we  kept  house 
in  a  new  home  purchased  by  Mr.  Roderick,  and  for  several 
months  I  lived  alone  v\'ith  him  and  the  children.  Durincf 
this  time  I  was  frequently  terrified  by  the  prolonged  and 
unreasonable  manner  in  which  he  chastised  our  little  gir), 
Stella;  although  for  some  reason,  he  was  really  kind  to 
me.  During  my  illness  I  had  been  alarmed  by  my  near 
approach  to  death  with  my  sins  unforgiven,  and  had 
resolved  to  join  Christ's  church  and  try  to  live  nearer  to 
God.  The  way  seemed  dark  and  I  blindly  groped  for 
light  that  did  not  come,  though  I  united  with  the  church 
and  tried  to  learn  my  duty.  My  parents  had  been  mem- 
bers of  the  same  church  for  years,  but  had  grown  cold 
and  worldly  indeed,  neglecting  their  Christian  duties,  and 
Mr.  Roderick  had  long  since  dropped  even  the  semblance 
of  Christianity  and  was  melancholy,  jealous  and  quarrel- 
some. My  health  was  failing  visiblv  under  the  frequent 
and  violent  shocks  to  my  nervous  S3-stem  and   with  the 


54  ONE  woman's  life. 

hard  work,  keeping  boarders,  taking  in  sewing, 
and  doing  all  of  my  household  work  that  I  might 
help  provide  for  my  children.  The  bright  spot  in  the 
cloud  of  sorrow  which  had  driven  all  smiles  from  my 
face  was  the  solicitude,  the  tender  sympathy  and  constant 
help  of  my  father's  family.  Even  affectionate  brother 
Harry  seemed  almost  intuitively  to  understand  my  un- 
happiness,  and  his  tender  thoughtfulness  seemed  unusual 
in  a  boy  so  young  and  was  never  forgotten.  One  night 
after  my  father  and  mother  had  spent  the  evening  with 
us  quietl}^  and  pleasantly,  and  had  departed  home,  I  was 
utterly  stunned  by  Mr.  Roderick's  change  of  manner  and 
the  wild  language  he  used.  He  raved  about  them  in  a 
fearful  malicious  and  vindictive  way,  using  terms  and 
threats  that  I  cannot  repeat.  My  mind  filled  with  dread 
for  their  safety.  I  exclaimed,  "Is  it  possible  that  you  have 
joined  against  them?"  ''Yes,"  he  hissed  between  his 
clenched  teeth,  "and  against  you  too,  for  you  are  all  nothing 
butasetofblack-hearted  Canadians."  Unable  to  longer  bear 
the  mental  strain,  I  entered  my  ow^n  room  and  throwing 
myself  on  the  bed  wept  aloud  convulsively.  His  rage 
only  increased,  and  coming  towards  me  after  shutting  the 
door,  he  bade  me  in  a  loud,  threatening  voice  to  "shut 
up."  His  fierce  screams  of  madness  aroused  Stella,  who 
began  to  cry.  Fearing  his  rage  would  fall  on  her,  I 
crushed  my  grief  and  was  on  the  very  eve  of  calling  for 
help  when  he  became  more  quiet.  Another  evening  ac- 
companied by  a  sister  of  my  brother's  wife  and  her  brother 
we  attended  church  near  by,  Mr.  Roderick  permit- 
ting me  to  go,  as  I  had  gone  to  church  so  httle  during  our 
stay  in  Shelby.  Returning,  we  said  "Good-bye"  at  the 
gate,  and  I  entered  the  house  and  found  Mr.  Roderick  so 


WIFE    AND    MOTHER.  55 

•sullen  and  jealous  he  would  not  speak  to  me.  I  endeavored 
to  amuse  him  by  pleasant  conversation,  but  he  only  raved, 
saying  all  the  hard  things  he  could.  Oh!  how  I  longed 
to  show  him  the  true  state  of  my  heart,  that  I  would  be 
so  happy,  indeed,  to  love  him  if  he  would  only  be  what  I 
had  thought  him,  and  let  me,  by  acting  so  I  could.  But  he 
was  so  jealous  and  cruel,  even  of  my  brother's  attentions  to 
me.  What  could  it  all  mean  ?  I  had  a  high  ideal  of  a  wife's 
and  mother's  responsibilities,  and  longed,  oh,  so  greatly,  to 
fully  perform  mine.  A  dark  foreboding  of  some  new 
trouble  weighed  heavily  upon  me  which  I  fruitlessly  tried 
to  shake  off.  I  often  wondered  how  the  people,  who  passed 
our  doors,  could  be  so  happy  and  gay  when  I  was  so 
miserable,  and  oh,  how  I  wished  for  Mr.  Roderick  to  be 
what  I  had  thought  him,  that  I  might  respect  and  love 
him,  and  be  as  happy  as  I  dreamed  and  hoped  to  be  in 
youthful  days. 

"They  came  and  went  like  shadows, 
The  blessed  dreams  of  youth. 
They  left  behind  no  impress, 
Nor  record  of  their  truth. 
Then  the  future  was  all  sunshine 
In  gorgeous  robes  arrayed 
But  ever  as  I've  reached  it 
'Tis  sunsihine  turned  to  shade." 


CHAPTER  IV. 


BLIND  AND  HELPLESS. 

"Father  before  thy  footstool  kneeling, 
Once  more  my  heart  goes  up  to  thee  ; 
For  aid,  for  strength,  to  thee  appealing, 
Thou  who  alone  canst  succor  me. 

"Flear  me  !  for  heart  and  flesh  are  failing. 
My  spirit  yielding  in  the  strife  ; 
And  anguish  wild  and  unavailing 
Sweeps  in  a  flood  across  my  life. 

"Help  me  to  stem  the  tide  of  sorrow  ; 
Help  me  to  bear  thy  chastening  rod ; 
Give  me  endurance  ;  let  me  borrow 
Strength  from  thy  promise  oh,  my  God. 

"Not  mine  the  grief  which  words  may  lighten. 
Not  mine  the  tears  of  common  woe, 
The  pangs  with  which  my  heart  strings  tighten, 
Only  the  All-seeing  One  may  know." 

HREE  weeks  after  Mr.  Roderick's  last  burst 
of  passion,  described  in  the  last  chapter^ 
Marie,  a  second  daughter,  was  added  to  our 
family.  She  was  but  five  weeks  old  when 
the  chastening  rod  of  sorrow  was  laid  more 
heavily  on  my  shrinking  form,  and  I  was  robbed  of 
earth's  greatest  blessing,  my  sight.  Crushed  in  the- 
spring  of  my  life,  cut  down  by  the  sword  of  affliction 
helpless,  powerless  to  escape,  I  could  only  sit  tearless- 
and  almost  dumb  in  my  new  sorrow. 

One  day  while  sitting  alone  with  my  litt'e  ones,  Stella 


BLIND    AND    HELPLESS.  57 

and  Earnest  playing  near  and  Marie  sweetly  sleeping  in 
a  cradle  close  beside  me,  I  must  have  received  a  premo- 
nition of  coming  blindness,  though  unconscious  of  it  at 
the  time.  Glancing  at  the  mirror  hanging  on  the  wall  at 
my  side,  I  surveyed  my  face  and  figure  with  unusual  in- 
terest, even  noting  every  article  of  dress  I  wore,  yet  not 
aware  at  the  time  that  I  was  taking  my  last  and  farewell 
look  for  years.  The  face  I  saw  reflected  there  was  thin- 
ner and  paler  than  the  one  that  had  looked  at  me  years 
before  ;  the  mouth  being  slightly  drawn  with  lines  of  sor- 
row on  either  side,  while  the  eyes  looked  hopelessly  sad. 
Short  clinging  curls  replaced  the  long  ones  lost  during  the 
illness  of  the  past  year.  Sighing  at  the  change,  I  turned 
away.  My  gaze  resting  upon  Stella  observed  her  with 
the  same  marked  interest,  noting  the  round  fair  face,  the 
flaxen  hair,  clear  bright  eyes,  and  sweet  expression;  three 
years  old,  innocent  and  happy.  What  would  happen  be- 
fore I  would  gaze  upon  her  dear  face  again  God  alone 
knew.  With  a  deep  sigh,  I  turned  my  eyes  from  her  to 
Earnest — wistful,  earnest  face  with  its  large  laughing 
eyes  of  deep  blue — an  affectionate  baby  of  eighteen 
months,  ever  clinging  to  his  mother  for  love  and  sympa- 
thy, but  destined  to  be  cruelly  torn  from  her  arms.  My 
darling  boy,  what  thy  fate  was  to  be,  thy  heavenly  Fath- 
er only  knew.  Lifting  the  cover  from  Marie's  face,  I 
watched  her  lying  in  beautiful  sleep,  the  dimpled,  waxen 
hands  folded  as  if  in  prayer,  the  round  little  head  covered 
with  soft  dark  rings  of  hair,  while  the  long  dark  lashes 
drooped  upon  the  tender  cheeks  waiting  to  be  kissed- 
Sleep  on,  sweet  little  one,  in  peaceful  unconsciousness  of 
the  heart  which  bled  for  you  and  of  the  eyes  above  your 
face  that  would    be  shut  for  years — long,  dreary   years>» 


58  ONE  avoman's  life. 

Sadly  I  replaced  the  cover  while  my  eyes  wandered  to 
the  window  where  I  saw  my  mother  coming  dow^n  the 
lane.  Watching  her  closely,  as  I  had  myself  and  children,  I 
noticed  she  was  looking  unusuall}^  well,  the  dress  and  walk- 
ing hat  being  tastefully  and  becoming!}^  worn ;  while  I  ad- 
miringly thought,  that  she  was,  as  many  said,  very  attrac- 
tive and  fine  looking;  with  her  soft  dark  eyes,  dark  brows, 
heavy  coils  of  black  hair  slightly  silvered  by  time.  She 
entered  my  room  and  occupyied  the  chair  I  had  vacated 
for  the  sofa,  and  was  soon  joined  b}^  my  brother  Bradley, 
who  entered  into  conversation  with  her,  while  I  lay  si- 
lently and  sadly  listening,  my  eves  seldom  leaving  their 
faces.  Bradley  was  now  a  young  man  of  twenty-five 
years,  with  a  slight  delicate  figure,  pale  face,  large,  deep 
blue  eves,  black  hair  and  mustache.  Many  times  in 
after  years  did  I  recall  the  picture  they  made  that  mem- 
orable evening.  After  their  departure  Mr.  Roderick 
came  in  and  asked  me  if  I  would  like  to  take  a  drive. 
Declining  on  account  of  my  eyes  paining  me,  I  stood  in  the 
door-way  watching  him  employed  in  the  yard,  vainly  wish- 
ing he  would  always  be  kind  and  cheerful  as  he  was  at  pres- 
ent. I  looked  up  the  lane  and  saw  father  approaching  and 
observed  that  his  hair  and  beard  were  turning  gray,  his 
form  thin  and  slightly  stooped,  while  the  truth  forced  its 
way  impressively  through  my  mind  that  he  was  rapidly 
growing  old,  and  ere  many  years  I  might  be  left  without 
his  tender  care;  and  the  feelings  of  sorrow  and  pity  I  felt 
for  him  were   strong. 

Walking  down  the  yard  I  gazed  thoughtfully  upon 
the  portion  of  the  town  within  the  range  of  my  vision; 
taking  a  lingering  look  at  the  blue  sky  and  mountains  in 
the  distance,  and  of  the  trees,   flowers  and  birds  around 


BLIXD    AND    HELPLESS.  59 

me,  even  hesitating  and  looking  back  several  times  be- 
fore entering  the  house.  The  last  thing  I  saw  was  my 
father's  face,  on  which  my  eyes  rested  for  an  instant  as  I 
passed  into  my  room.  Twilight  with  a  gentle  hand  was 
now  softly  drawing  a  dark  mantle  over  the  face  of  tired 
nature. 

Early  next  morning  on  waking  and  attempting  to  rise, 
I  found  that  my  eyes  were  unable  to  bear  the  light  with- 
out severe  pam.  Binding  a  handkerchief  over  them  I 
groped  my  way  to  a  chair,  and,  calling  the  children  to  me, 
I  dressed  them  without  seeing.  Believing  like  the  per- 
son who  wrote,  '-Happy  is  the  child  who  has  its  own 
mother  for  a  nurse,"  I  had  never  trusted  my  children  to 
the  care  of  thoughtless  servants,  except  when  compelled 
by  illness;  knowing  the  evil  influence  of  ignorant  nurses 
upon  the  pliant  young  natures  of  children,  impressions  are 
often  implanted  that  are  lasting  and  hurtful — often  faults 
of  speech  that  can  never  be  erased,  as  well  as  those  of 
manner,  besides  the  neglect  of  health  through  careless- 
ness. Not  realizing  my  sad  condition,  I  went  to  the 
breakfast  table  and  moved  the  handkerchief  from  my 
eyes,  not  thinking  but  that  I  could  see,  what  was  my  hor- 
ror and  dismay  to  find  I  could  not.  I  rose  hastily  without 
speaking,  and  returned  to  my  room  in  no  enviable  frame 
of  mind,  as  the  fearful  truth  flashed  upon  me  with  over- 
powering force.  I  was  followed  by  Mr.  Roderick,  who 
urged  me  to  return  and  eat  my  breakfast.  "No,"  I  replied, 
*<I  do  not  want  to  eat  when  I  cannot  see."  He  remained 
with  me  several  moments  and  attempted  to  persuade 
me  not  to  be  discouraged,  while  I  sat  mute  and  tearless, 
trying  to  resist  the  hopeless  tide  of  sorrow  which  was  fast 
taking  my  strength.     The  Hght  shining  through  the  ban- 


60  ONE  wOxMAn's  life. 

dage  over  my  eyes  now  became  intensely  vivid  and  pain- 
ful, forcing  upon  me  the  necessity  of  having  the  doors 
and  windows  darkened.  Two  weeks  of  suspense  and 
anguish  followed,  when  one  night,  attempting  to  open 
my  eyes,  I  found  they  were  tightly  closed,  and  I  was 
powerless  to  raise  the  lids.  Alarmed  at  this  discovery  I 
awoke  Mr.  Roderick,  who  soon  dropped  to  sleep  again, 
leaving  me  to  bear  my  new  sorrow  alone  For  a  few 
moments  I  was  nearly  frantic  with  grief,  wringing  my 
hands  and  even  tearing  my  hair,  as  I  was  compelled  to 
realize  the  sad  truth.  I  was  blind.  Blind  and  only 
twenty-two  years  old.  Blind  and  the  mother  of  three 
little  children.  Blind  and  in  the  power  of  one  who 
seemed  a  maniac  in  his  fits  of  rage  ;  bhnd!  blind!  oh, 
what  would  become  of  me  and  my  helpless  little  ones  ? 
I  could  not  even  conjecture.  These  thoughts  were  mad- 
dening, while  the  imtense,  lancinating  pains  through  my 
eyes  were  intolerable.  My  physician  had  given  me  some 
hope,  but  I  was  rapidly  growing  worse  under  his  treat- 
ment, he  having  added  greatly  to  my  suffering  by  draw- 
ing a  large  cord  through  one  of  the  leaders  in  my  neck 
and  poisoning  it. 

Previous  to  this,  serious  trouble  had  arisen  between  Mr. 
Roderick  and  my  father  and  brothers.  They  had  been 
transacting  business  together,  and  on  coming  to  a  settle- 
ment, difficulties  had  sprung  up,  which  could  not  be 
agreeably  settled,  as  Mr.  Roderick  had  been  acting  dis- 
honorably with  their  money.  Some  weeks  previous  to 
this,  I  had  accidentally  discovered  the  fraud  he  was  guilty 
of  towards  them,  and  had  suffered  severely,  thinking  my- 
self and  children  disgraced  by  a  dishonorable  husband  and 
father.     Father  and  brothers  were  very  angry,  but  on  my 


BLIND    AND    HELPLESS.  ^1 


account  let  the  matter  rest,  while  Mr.  Roderick  constantly 
abused  them  to  me  in  their  absence,  distressing  me  with 
malicious  and  vindictive  threats,  regardless  of  my  unhappy 
state.  About  this  time  Mr.  Roderick  carried  Stella  to 
his  own  people.  Little  Earnest  missing  her  and  my 
care  seemed  unhappy  and  dissatisfied,  refusing  to  play, 
and  cryed  piteously.  My  mother,  who  visited  us  three 
or  four  times  a  day,  carried  him  home  with  her,  where  he 
was  very  happy  and  contented. 

It  was  my  first  separation  from  my  children  and  I 
sorely  missed  them,  but  was  compelled  to  submit,  for  I 
w^as  now  scarcely  able  to  sit  up. 

When  Mr.  Roderick  returned  he  brought  with  him  his 
eldest  sister  Rachel,  who  was  a   widow.     Her  small, 
treacherous  black  eyes,  sharp  nose  and  chin  were  true 
indications  to  her  character,  although  her  long,  flattering 
tongue  had  deceived  me.    She  added  greatly  to  my  sorrow 
by  joining  with  Mr.  Roderick  against  my  people,  neither 
of  them  showing  any  sympathy    for  my  physical  suffer- 
ings, and  even  seemed  to  doubt  that  they  were  as  great 
as  I  declared  them   to  be.     They  seemed  so  cold  and 
heartless  that  I  entirely  suppressed    all  mention  of  the 
mental  and  physical  anguish  I  was  laboring  under.     Deep 
convictions  of  sin,  my  neglect  of  God,  and  every  thought- 
less   word  and  act  of    my    life  now    arose  before    my 
excited  mind,  so  largely  magnified  that  I  felt  my  hope  of 
heaven  was  entirely  lost,  while  my  prayers  for  mercy 
seemed  useless  and  unavailing. 

I  had  about  lost  all  hope  of  recovering  my  sight,  when 
my  parents  received  a  letter  from  Mr.  Wills,  urging  them 
and  Mr.  Roderick  to  send  me  to  Philadelphia  for  treat- 
ment, promising  them  all  the   assistance  in  his  power. 


62  ONE  woman's  life. 

My  parents  and  brothers  were  very  anxious  to  accept  his 
kindness,  proposing  to  assist  in  any  way  that  would  be  ac- 
ceptable to  Mr.  Roderick,   also  offered  to  help  bear  my 
expenses  and  take  care    of  the  children  in  my  absence., 
A  hope  of  regaining  my  sight  was   kindled  in  my  heart 
that  was  soon  cruelly  destroyed.     I  was  fearful  of  a  re- 
fusal, but  showed  the  contents  of  Mr.  Wills'  letter  to  Mr. 
Roderick.     He    angrily    refused  the  assistance  offered 
calling  my  friends  meddlesome  villains.     In  vain  I  tried  to 
show  him  the  benefit  I  might  derive  under  the  treatment  of 
skilled  physicians.     He  would  not  wait  to  hear,  and  madly 
raved  about  my  extravagant  ideas,  and  my  friends'  inter- 
ference in  his  affairs.     His  sister  Rachel  joined  him  in 
opposing  my  request.     My  friends,  unwilling  to  give  up 
all  hope,  urged  upon  him  the  importance  of  proper  treat- 
ment before  it  was  too  late,  but  finding  all  their  efforts  at 
persuasion  fruitless,  they  begged  me  to  come  home,  say- 
ing they  would  go  to  Canada  and  take  me  with  them. 

Although  I  lived  in  constant  fear  of  my  life  and  was 
nearly  wild  with  longing  to  go  home,  yet  I  could  not  find 
courage  to  take  the  first  step,  and  I  felt  unable  to  bear 
the  scene  I  knew  would  follow.  I  felt,  too,  that  the  lives 
of  some  of  my  friends  might  be  sacrificed.  From  remarks 
I  had  heard  Mr.  Roderick  make  in  past  years,  I  knew  if 
I  left  I  must  give  up  my  children,  and  my  imagination, 
vivid  as  it  ever  is  in  the  blind,  pictured  them  being  torn 
from  my  arms  by  a  frantic  madman,  and  I  could  hear 
their  pitiful  cries  of  distress.  The  picture  was  too  terri- 
ble, I  could  not  bear  it,  and  I  spent  hours  in  laying  plans 
to  escape  him  and  avoid  these  heartrending  results. 

Outside  of   my  immediate  family,  I   was  without  one 
friend  in  the  town  of  Shelby,  at  least  Mr.  Roderick  had 


BLIND    AND    HELPLESS.  63 

lead  me  to  believe  so  ;  my  sad  and  unsocial  ways  having 
driven  away  all  acquaintances. 

Although  their  friends  paid  them  frequent  visits  Mr. 
Roderick  led  me  to  believe  my  people  were  very  unpop- 
ular in  Shelby  and  had  many  enemies.  This  helped  to 
prevent  me  from  making  my  trouble  known.  In  later 
years  I  learned  that  the  opposite  was  the  true  state, 
and  instead  they  possessed  many  true  and  loyal  friends 
and  were  held  in  high  esteem.  I  spent  many  weary  and 
painful  hours,  and  the  desire  in  my  heart  to  see  my  chil- 
dren, especially  the  "youngest,  liitle  Marie,  was  almosj. 
overpowering.  All  my  visitors  were  given  a  wrong  im. 
pression  by  Rachel's  sly  and  artful  tongue,  while  Mr. 
Roderick's  extreme  kindness  to  me  in  their  presence,  and 
plausible  manners,  led  them  to  think  I  was  receiving 
every  attention.  So,  believing  it  useless,  I  made  no  com- 
plaints. Once  I  ventured  to  ask  Mr.  Roderick  to  let  me 
go  home  and  stay  only  a  little  while,  but  he  refused  in  no 
gentle  manner. 

My  disease  had  now  taken  an  alarming  turn,  light 
having  become  magnified  to  such  an  extent  that  the  faint- 
est ray  looked  like  the  burning  sun.  Although  my  room 
was  so  dark  that  others  could  not  see  their  hands  before 
them  I  had  to  wear  heavy  leather  bandages,  as  my  room 
seemed  to  be  flooded  with  blazing  light.  Noises  were 
continually  sounding  in  my  head  hke  loud  claps  of  thunder, 
roaring  of  cannon  and  pistol  shots,  varied  by  ringing  of 
bells,  smging,  hissing  and  buzzing  sounds.  BriUiant  hghts 
of  all  colors  were  constantly  flashing  before  my  vision, 
beautiful  vivid  pictures  of  every  description,  some  of  them 
being  of  ancient  castles  and  landscapes,  such  as  I  had 
read  of  but  never  seen  ;    also   open  books,  printed  bills 


64  ONE  woman's  life. 

and  newspapers  flitted  before  me  rapidly,  while  I  con- 
stantly tried  to  read  them.  The  sentence,  "  God  is  good," 
was  all  I  could  ever  decipher.     These  words  often  passed 
before  me  in  large  letters,  as  if  sent  to  keep  alive  a  little 
spark  ot  hope  and  save  me  from  despair.     Balls  of  fire, 
snakes,  pitchforks  and  sharp  sticks  seemed  to  rise  before 
me,  enter  my  eyes  and  pass  through   my  head,  followed 
by  terrible  crashing   noises   and  excruciating  pains.     A 
crawling,  twitching  and  tingling  sensation  was  felt  through 
my  whole  body,  caused  by  the  highly  excited  state  of  my 
nervous   system.     I  had    violent  jerkings    of  my  limbs, 
heart,  head,  eyes  and  eyeballs.     My  eyeballs  seemed  to 
be  violently  drawn  backwards,   and  I   suffered  with  a 
sinking  sensation,  as  if  riding  or  sailing  through  space. 
I  had  been  in  this  wretched  condition  about  two  months, 
when  on  New  Year's  eve   Mr.  Roderick,  acting  on  the 
suggestion  of  some  acquaintance,  proposed  that  I  should 
have  my  spinal  column  briskly  rubbed  to  relieve  the  pain 
in  my  eyes.     I  found  he  would  be  angry  if  I  resisted  and 
reluctantly  consented,  my  despair   being  so  great  I  could 
not  resist.     He   and  his  sister,  taking  turns,  began  the 
vigorous  and  painful  process   of  rubbing  my  spine  with 
coarse  towels  and  the  palms  of  their  hands.     This  lasted 
about  one  hour,  when  both  of  them,  complaining  of  their 
arms  aching,  and  being  very  tired,  ceased.    The  skin  was 
now^  rubbed  from  the  joints,  and  they  followed  this  rub- 
bing by  a  cold  bath,  while  my  spine  seemed  on  fire.  One 
hour  later  I  was  seized  with  severe  pains  and  a  peculiar 
light  sensation  in  my  head,  which   sprang  about  on  the 
pillow  as  if  on  wire.     This  was   accompanied   with  ex- 
treme heat  in  my  spinal  column,  and  nausea.    On  attempt- 
ing to  move  my  infant  I  found  myself  powerless  to  lift 


BLIND   AND    HELPLESS.  65 

her.  Mr.  Roderick  and  his  sister  went  to  sleep  and  left 
me  to  suffer  alone.  After  a  night  of  anguish  I  discov- 
ered that  I  had  partly  lost  the  use  of  my  Hmbs  and  body. 
This  was  a  terrible  discovery,  added  to  my  blindness  and 
other  troubles.  Previous  to  the  rubbing  I  had  never  felt 
the  slightest  symptom  of  spinal  trouble,  and  now  I  knew 
that  I  was  ruined  by  ignorant  treatment. 

The  next  morning  I  told  Mr.  Roderick  and  his  sister 
of  the  pain  I  was  suffering,  and  they  accused  me  of 
hypocrisy  and  deceit,  saying  I  was  putting  on,  and  de- 
nied that  anything  ailed  my  spine. 

Two  weeks  of  great  suffering  followed,  aggravated, 
by  these  constant  assertions.  At  this  time  the  business- 
■of  my  father  and  brothers  failed.  Discouraged  and  dis- 
appointed they  would  have  returned  to  Canada  but  dis- 
liked to  leave  me.  Brother  Edgar,  who  had  taken  a 
deep  interest  in  all  of  my  troubles,  and  would  have  beaten 
Mn  Roderick  but  for  my  entreaties,  moved  to  Charlotte, 
a  city  near.  Hours  passed  which  seemed  lengthened 
into  days  by  suffering,  in  my  lonely,  darkened  room.  The 
plaintive  cries  of  my  infant,  in  the  adjoining  room,  pierced 
my  heart,  and  fresh  wounds  were  mflicted  while  listen- 
ing to  the  low  tones  of  Mr.  Roderick  and  his  sister,  who 
I  felt  were  planning  some  new  scheme  to  add  to  my 
troubles,  and  I  soon  found  that  I  was  not  wrong. 

One  day  Mr.  Roderick  told  me  they  were  going  to 
take  me  to  his  people.  Shrinking  at  the  thought  of  the 
long,  rough  journey  in  my  weak  condition,  I  begged  them 
not  to  do  so,  telling  them  I  was  unable  to  bear  the 
wrenching  and  fatigue  of  traveling  over  the  rocky  moun- 
tain road.  My  appeal  was  in  vain,  as  they  only  sneered 
at  what  they  called  imagination.     The    physician,   who 


y 


66  ONE  woman's  life. 

was  entirely  influenced  by  them,  and  wishing  to  please 
and  promote  his  own  interests,  argued  that  it  would  do 
no  harm.  Mother  called  several  times  hoping  to  per- 
suade Mr.  Roderick  to  alter  his  decision,  but  without 
avail.  I  found  it  useless  to  contend  longer  and  concluded 
to  make  an  effort  to  go,  thinking  they  would  return  if 
they  found  I  was  unable  to  travel.  My  anxiety  to  see 
little  Stella  gave  me  faint  courage,  and  a  hope  was 
awakened  that  a  change  in  my  condition  would  be  ef- 
fected by  the  breaking  up  of  our  home. 

The  morning  of  our  departure  was  very  bleak  and  cold, 
the  ground  was  frozen  hard.  I  was  unable  to  walk  but 
could  sit  up  a  few  moments.  A  bed  was  prepared  in  a 
covered  wagon,  and  Mr.  Roderick  carried  and  placed  me 
in  it,  my  mother  standing  by  too  much  distressed  to 
speak.  As  we  started  off  she  hurried  home  and  informed 
my  father  that  I  was  gone;  he  immediately  took  a  horse 
and  buggy,  and  came  after  and  soon  overtook  us.  A 
few  days  previous  to  Lhis  my  family  and  physician  stood 
by  my  bedside  expecting  to  see  me  die,  and  now  I  was 
only  slightly  better,  and  was  forced  to  leave  my  friends 
and  take  a  wearisome,  painful  journey.  My  eyes  were 
still  heavily  bandaged  and  very  painful,  and  the  seton  in 
the  back  of  my  neck  was  badly  swollen  and  purple  from 
inflammation.  Father,  finding  Mr.  Roderick  determined 
to  go  on,  took  Rachel  and  my  babe  into  the  buggy  with 
him.  Mother  had  kept  little  Earnest.  I  now  begged  Mr. 
Roderick  to  return  but  he  said  there  was  no  one  to  take 
care  of  me.  I  told  him  mother  wanted  me  to  stay  with 
her  until  I  was  better.  He  thought  that  out  of  the  ques- 
tion and  drove  rapidly  on.  Fear  of  my  inability  to  bear 
this  trip  was  speedily  reaUzed,  as   a  deathly,  sickening 


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BLIND    AND   HELPLESS.  69 

sensation  crept  over  me  caused  from  the  jarring  and 
wrenching  of  my  spine.  I  entreated  him  several  times 
to  stop,  and  begged  for  water  to  cool  my  parched  and 
feverish  lips,  but  kept  silent  when  father  was  near,  fear- 
ing he  would  interfere  in  my  behalf  and  they  would  come 
to  blows,  when  I  knew  my  father  would  be  the  suf- 
ferer, and  I  could  not  sacrifice  this  beloved  parent  to  save 
myself.  I  felt  there  was  no  earthly  aid  for  me,  and  con- 
stantly cried  to  my  Father  in  heaven  to  have  mercy.  As 
the  hours  passed  the  intense  pain  gradually  wore  away 
and  a  feeling  of  numbness  and  ease  stole  over  me,  al- 
though my  head  rolled  uncomfortably  from  side  to  side, 
my  neck  having  become  so  weak  that  I  cpuld  not  hold 
it  steady.     Paralysis  had  already  set  in. 

After  traveling  all  day  we  stopped  at  Mrs.  Bender's, 
who  lived  on  the  road.  Attempting  to  rise  I  found  to 
my  horror  that  I  could  not  move.  I  sank  back  and 
exclaimed,  "My  back  is  broken."  "Oh,  no,"  said  Mr. 
Roderick  and  Rachel  in  cold,  heartless  tones.  "You  are 
all  right."  "Yes,  it  is  broken,"  I  replied,  "for  I  cai  nut 
move."  Then  Mr.  Roderick  lifted  my  paralyzed  form 
in  his  strong  arms,  carried  me  into  the  house  and  laid 
me  on  a  bed  where  I  lay  motionless.  i<.achel  imme- 
diately proceeded  to  Mrs.  Bender  and  told  her  not  to 
listen  to  my  story,  that  I  was  "hypord"  as  she  termed  it, 
and  imagined  that  I  had  spinal  disease  and  that  nothing 
"ailed  me."  So  the  family  all  avoided  me,  showing  very 
little  sympathy.  M}'^  father  improved  every  opportunity 
to  urge  upon  me  the  necessity  of  allowing  him  to  interfere 
in  my  behalf  and  stop  these  terrible  proceedings,  as, 
without  my  consent,  he  could  not  lawfully,  but  would 
willingly  risk  his  life  to  save  mine  if  I  would   grant  him 


70  ONE  woman's  life. 

the  privil'-ge.  But  my  love  for  him  was  too  great  to  ad- 
mit such  a  sacrifice  and  I  refused  his  offer  and  would  not 
complain  or  allow  him  to  think  that  my  sufferings  were 
as  great  as  he  feared,  and  passed  a  long,  sleepless  night, 
the  silence  being  broken  only  by  Mr.  Roderick's  heavy 
breathing.  The  long  hours  wore  slowly  on,  my  body 
racked  with  pain.  The  unpleasant  sensation  caused  by 
knowing  that  a  man  had  been  murdered  in  the  room  I 
occupied  and  that  his  blood  still  stained  the  floor  before 
my  bed  increased  my  fear  for  father's  safety  should  he 
interfere .  I  listened  anxiously  for  his  voice  and  footsteps, 
fearing  for  his.life. 

All  my  prayers  as  yet  seemed  fruitless,  and  I  still 
struggled  hopelessly,  finding  no  rest  for  my  burdened 
soul.  For  the  sake  of  my  children  though  I  must  not 
yield  to  despair.  I  kept  thinking  of  my  friends  and  my 
cruel  treatment,  and  how  different  my  fate  would  be 
were  I  among  them.  How  I  longed  for  the  presence  of 
some  of  them  to  help  my  father  in  preventing  the  abuse 
I  was  being  subjected  to.  By  the  next  morning  I  had 
determined  not  to  be  moved  any  farther  and  felt  relieved 
on  hearing  the  sound  of  falling  rain,  which  I  knew  would 
prevent  our  traveling  and  delay  a  scene  consequent  upon 
my  refusing  to  be  moved.  The  next  night  was  spent  in 
silence  and  pain,  though  my  heart  ever  breathed  a  prayer. 
I  had  not  had  an  opportunity  of  speaking  with  my  father 
in  private,  as  Mr.  Roderick  was  constantly  in  the  room. 
The  following  morning  Mr.  Roderick  informed  me  that 
we  must  continue  our  journey.  I  told  him  it  was  impossi- 
ble as  it  would  endanger  my  life  or  make  me  a  hopeless 
cripple.  I  knew  that  life  was  indeed  at  stake,  and  I  must 
for  my  children's  sake   make  an  effort   to  save  myself. 


BLIND    AND   HELPLESS.  71 

Rachel  was  very  angry,  and  coming  to  the  bed  made  an 
effort  to  dress  me,  but  I  refused  to  let  her,  telling  her 
that  if  they  persisted  in  their  purposes  I  would 
die  and  they  would  be  my  murderers.  She  immediately 
went  to  Mrs.  Bender's  room  and  on  her  return  said  we 
must  go,  that  Mrs.  Bender  would  not  keep  us  any 
longer.  Father  entered  at  that  moment  and  I  asked 
him  to  see  Mrs.  Bender  himself,  and  ask  her  to  let  me 
stay  until  I  was  able  to  be  moved.  All  hope  was  de- 
stroyed when  he  returned  and  said  she  had  refused  us 
shelter.  I  well  understood  that  Rachel  was  at  the  bot- 
tom of  all  this.  "Cruel,  cruel  Rachel!"  I  thought,  ''would 
you  have  acted  thus  if  your  own  daughter  had  been  in 
my  helpless  condition?"  No  sound  as  yet  had  escaped 
my  lips,  showing  the  inward  torture  I  was  enduring;  but 
when  again  on  our  way,  and  I  felt  the  terrible  wrenching 
of  the  injured  portion  of  my  spine  I  could  not  suppress 
moans  of  pain  from  the  intense  suffering  except  in  fa- 
ther's presence.  After  traveling  six  miles  father  per- 
suaded Mr.  Roderick  to  stop  at  a  Mr.  Anderson's.  Ra- 
chel attempted  to  influence  Mrs.  Anderson  as  she  had 
Mrs.  Bender  but  failed,  Mrs.  Anderson  being  an  educa- 
ted, Christian  lad3^  I  was  treated  with  much  kindness 
at  this  place  by  every  member  of  the  family,  but  Mrs. 
Anderson  was  in  verv  delicate  health,  and  realizingr  that 
our  presence  would  be  an  intrusion,  and  being  too  weak 
to  resist  longer  I  was  again  placed  in  the  jersey  after 
having  rested  two  nights.  Father  still  accompanied  us, 
sorrowful  and  depressed,  but  his  presence  was  my  only 
comfort. 

Miles  as  yet  separated  us  from  Stella  and  I  longed  to 
meet  her.     On  we  went  over  rocks  and  mountains,  and 


72  ONE  woman's  life. 

vivid  pictures    of    my    surroundings    passed    before    my 
blinded  eyes  and  I  could  see  the    high    snowclad  moun- 
tains, the  long,  winding,  rocky  road,  the  covered  vehicle 
in  which  I  was  lying,  the  tired,  jaded  horse     urged  for- 
ward by  Mr.  Roderick,  who  sat   with     grim  determina- 
tion written  in    every  line   of  his    face,    his    lips    ti  ghtly 
drawn  over  his  teetii  as  I  had  seen  him  in  the  days  gone 
by.     In  the  distance  a  picture  of  little  flaxen  haired  Stella, 
surrounded  by   the  tall,  gaunt  people,   who  had   her   in 
charge.     Little  Earnest  left    with  my  weeping  mother, 
my  father's  sorrowful  face,  sitting  beside    Rachel,   who 
with  cold,  cruel    eyes    watched    the    little    babe,    whose 
piercing  wails  rent  the  air  and   my  heart  as   we  traveled. 
My  mental    and   physical    agony    was    too   great    and  I 
moaned    inwardly  in  anguish  of    spirit.     The   question, 
shall  I  sacrifice  my  father  to  save  myself  ?  kept  rising  in 
my  mind.     No,    no,  this  must  never  be,  and  I  cast  away 
this  one  earthly  hope.     A  despairing  cry  to  God  to  have 
mercy  upon    me    continually  arose    to    my  lips,    as    the 
agony  of  death  came  upon   me.     The    moans    tliat    had 
escaped  my  lips  hushed,   the    cr}'  of    my  infant   sounded 
faintly  in  the  distance.     My    sins  magnified  the  terror  of 
death.     In  this  unforgiven  state  death  became  appalling. 
All  earthly  hopes  destroyed.     Oh,  my  God!    Pity  me. 
My  father  seeing  that    my  suffering  was  greater  than  I 
could    bear    plead    with    Mr.    Roderick    to    leave     me, 
even  by  the  road  side,  but  I,  fearing  for  his  life,  entreated 
him  not  to  interfere.     Mr.    Roderick    whipped  the  tired 
beast  and  drove  rapidly  on.     On,  on,  we  went,  and  I  lay 
paralyzed  and  passive    through  the    long  hours  that  fol- 
low^ed,  my  suffering  increasing  until  it  seemed  impossible 
that  I  could  live  to  reach  the  end  of  my  journey;  while 


BLIND    AND    HELPLESS.  73 

the  distressing  cry  of  my  poor  babe  agonized  me  beyond 
endurance.  Nearingthe  house  of  Mr.  Roderick's  father 
I  heard  Stella's  voice,  which  aroused  me  from  the  death- 
like stupor  into  which  I  had  fallen.  Now,  at  last,  they 
would  let  me  rest  I  thought,  as  Mr.  Roderick  carried 
me  to  a  bed. 

Soon  another  thing  happened  to  give  pain.  Stella 
who  was  chatting  near  by  uttered  such  coarse,  rough 
words  as  had  never  fallen  from  her  lips  while  with  me. 
No,  I  must  not  die  and  leave  her  to  grow  up  thus.  Father 
in  heaven,  spare  me  for  my  children.  Two  weeks  later 
found  me  in  a  worse  condition  than  I  had  been  before, 
for  I  had  fallen  into  the  hands  of  people  who  showed 
neither  mercy,  kindness  nor  sympathy.  The  inflammation 
in  my  eyes  and  spine  had  been  aggravated  by  the  jour- 
ney, and  all  the  muscles  in  my  body  seemed  weakened. 
I  was  now  as  helpless  as  an  infant,  being  unable  to  even 
chew  and  swallow  my  food  without  great  difficulty,  and 
still  suffering  intense  pain,  and  was  unable  to  turn  my 
head  or  move  my  body.  Some  members  of  Mr.  Rod- 
erick's family  sneered  at  my  suffering,  my  helplessness 
and  the  bandage  over  my  eyes,  calling  me  "a  fool,  hypo- 
crite," etc.,  and  insisted  that  Mr.  Roderick  should  beat  me 
and  make  me  get  up  and  go  to  work,  and  said  that  I  was 
trying  to  play  the  lady,  and  that  I  was  as  well  and  able 
to  work  as  they  were.  Mr.  Roderick  was  providing 
them  with  money  and  provisions,  yet  they  were  unwilling 
to  wait  upon  his  wife,  and  left  me  alone  with  their  aged 
mother,  who  was  an  invalid  herself,  and  reminded  one 
always  of  the  witches  I  had  read  of,  with  her  small  eyes 
and  strange  ways ;  and  as  she  now  seemed  one  of  my 
bitterest  enemies,   her    presence  filled    me    with    dread. 


74  ONE  woman's  life. 

Mr.  Roderick's  family  had  given  false  impressions  to  the 
neighborhood  of  my  sickness,  and  the  few  who  dropped 
in  eyed  me  with  suspicion  and  curiosity.  Two  of  Mr. 
Roderick's  sisters  were  constantly  begging  food  in  my 
name,  telling  the  people  that  "  Edney  ate  like  a  hog." 
They  had  made  my  father  think  that  they  were  going  lo 
treat  me  well,  and  he  had  returned  home  promising  to 
send  mother.  So  I  was  looking  forward  to  her  coming 
with  an  anxious  heart.  That  somewhat  lightened  my 
burden.  I  knew  that  she  would  have  a  physician  called 
in  when  she  came.  But  I  was  now  having  faint,  sinking 
spells,  and  was  fearful  that  my  life  would  not  be  spared 
until  she  came.  One  day  one  of  the  family  came  in  say- 
ing she  was  coming,  but  I  must  not  complain  to  her,  as  she 
was  in  great  trouble.  They  knew  that  would  silence  any 
word  of  complaint  of  them.  i:^earf ul  apprehensions  seized 
me  as  I  exclaimed,  "What  has  happened?  Tell  me 
quickly."  They  replied,  "Your  brother  Harry  has  acci- 
dentally shot  himself  on  the  way  here  and  your  mother  is 
bringing  him  in  the  buggy  with  her."  Then  I  heard 
their  voices  at  the  door.  What  new  and  awful  trouble 
was  this  added  to  my  others?  Harry,  my  kind  young 
brother,  perhaps  a  mangled  corpse.  Oh  how  terrible  I 
But  my  mind  was  soon  relieved  by  learning  that  he  was 
not  fatally  injured,  the  ball  having  entered  the  fleshy  part 
of  his  thigh  and  lodged  near  the  main  artery.  There 
was  no  surgeon  near  to  extract  the  ball,  and  after  two 
weeks  he  was  carried  home. 

Mother,  on  learning  that  I  was  without  a  physician, 
insisted  upon  having  one  called  in.  After  much  violent 
opposition  on  the  part  of  my  persecutors  one  was  sum- 
moned.    Before  he  entered  my  room  Rachel  had  a  long 


BLIND    AND    HELPLESS.  75 

consultation  with  him,  which,  however,  did  not  seem  to 
have  much  weight,  for  after  a  careful  examination  he 
pronounced  my  case  a  serious  and  critical  one,  and  was 
doubtful  of  my  recovery.  He  said  it  was  a  great  pity  I 
could  not  have  gone  North  for  treatment,  but  promised 
he  would  do  the  best  he  could.  His  opinion  brought 
forth  many  sneers  and  unkind  remarks  after  his  depart- 
ure. A.  few  weeks  later  my  life  seemed  hanging  by  a 
thread.  I  lay  so  cold  and  motionless  that  my  unhappy 
mother  often  feared  I  was  dead.  She  seldom  left  my 
room,  though  we  were  never  left  alone,  as  Mr.  Roder- 
ick's mother  was  always  present  and  kept  a  close  watch 
on  every  movement  and  word.  Often  at  the  keyhole 
and  crevices  in  the  wall  they  would  listen  to  us — eaves- 
dropping— and  we  would  hear  their  stealthy  footsteps 
shpping  away.  This  knowledge  of  being  watched  was 
very  annoying,  as  I  wanted  to  talk  to  my  mother  and  lay 
some  plans  for  escape  for  myself  and  children.  I  could 
not  go  without  them,  and  it  was  doing  them  no  good  to 
stay  there.  They  took  a  very  great  dislike  to  little 
Earnest,  whom  mother  had  brought  with  her,  and  he  was 
very  unhappy  unless  in  her  arms,  or  lying  by  my  side. 
His  pleading  voice  seemed  ever  calling  me  back  from 
the  dark  river,  whose  moaning  waters  were  waiting  for 
their  prey.  How  could  I  die  and  leave  my  boy  !  I  was 
blind  and  helpless  though  !  O  God,  pity  me  in  my 
despair  !  Blind  and  helpless  !  The  words  rang  in  my 
ears  like  the  knell  of  doom.  At  last  a  new  light  broke 
over  m}'-  soul.  The  burden  of  sin  that  had  lain  so  heav- 
ily upon  me  rolled  away,  leaving  in  its  stead  peace, 
love  and  heavenly  hope.  Death  lost  its  terrors,  and  long 
hours  when  I  lay  cold  and  still  I  seemed  to   be  looking 


76  ONE  woman's  life. 

into  heaven,  beholding  its  wonders,  and  listening  to  the 
songs  of  angels.  I  saw  my  brother  who  had  gone  before 
and  he  seemed  hovering  near  me  amid  angelic  hosts. 
Blind  to  all  around  me,  yet  happy  in  my  new  hope,  during 
the  days  that  followed  I  lay  so  quiet  th^t  mother  won- 
dered what  kept   me  so  silent,  patient  and  even  cheerful. 

"O,  Edenland,  thou  land  of  bloiom, 
Beyond  the  shadows  of  the  tomb, 
Beyond  the  pain  of  grief  and  strife 
That  dim  and  mar  our  mortal  life. 
0,  Edenland,  thou  land  of  the  blest 
Where  we  alone  find  peace  and  rest." 

were  the  lines  that  continually  floated  through  my 
mind,  like  a  sweet  strain  from  a  far-off  shore.  One 
night  mother,  who  had  fallen  asleep  beside  me,  suddenly 
awoke  and  exclaimed  she  had  just  dreamed  a  very  sing- 
ular dream.  I  remarked,  "  So  have  I,"  having  just  awak- 
ened myself.  We  v.^ere  both  very  much  surprised  to 
find  that  the  two  were  the  same.  The  visions  appearing 
to  both  were  as  follows :  We  thought  that  after  many 
years  of  sickness  I  had  returned  to  my  father's  home. 
The  house  seemed  new  and  strancre,  but  the  furniture 
was  the  same.  My  mother  sitting  in  an  easy  chair  in  an 
old  accustomed  way,  the  windows,  pictures  and  all  had  a 
sweet  old  familiarity  about  them.  1  stood  before  the 
mirror  arranging  my  hair,  mother  saying,  "  Your  hair 
looks  natural,  daughter,  though  not  the  same  as  long 
ago;  but  the  new  suit  grown  out  since  your  long  illness  is 

soft  and  sheen}-  ns  of  old ."     We  were  not  believers 

in  dreams,  but  the  singularity  of  our  dreaming  exactly 
the  same  thing,  at  the  same  time,  and  both  awaking  to- 
gether,  impressed  us  as  a  strange  and  perhaps  a  good 


BLIND    AND    HELPLESS.  77 

omen.     A  few  weeks  after  mother  came  a  slight  change 
for  the  better  was  perceptible  in  my  sickness,  which  par- 
tially relieved  mother's  anxiety,   although  the  unfeehng 
remarks,  and  strange  behavior  of  the  family  caused  her 
such  deep  sorrow  that  she  was  nearly  ill.     She  had  been 
with  me  five  weeks  when  she  received  a  letter  from  her 
home  requesting  her  to   come  immediately,  as  Brother 
Bradley,  always  delicate,    had  lost   the  use  of   his  eyes, 
and  was   quite  sick.     He    had    been    closely  employed 
keeping  books,  studying  music,  etc.,  and  had  even  been 
careless   of  physical  strength.     The  letter  informed  her 
that  he  was  going  North  for  treatment.     I  readily  con- 
sented   for  her  to    leave    me,  to    prepare    him    for  the 
journey.      But  my  heart   was  torn   with  the  thought  of 
this  loved  brother's  blighted  hopes,  and  the  anguish  of 
mind  he  would  have  to  endure  under  the  terrible  affliction 
— blindness.     O    God,  could   the  sight   of    but  one    be 
restored,  were   it  not  for  my  children,  I  would  ask  thee 
to  let  it  be  him  whom  thou  wouldst  bless!     When  mother 
bade  me  good-bye  she  promised  that  my  father  should 
come,  and  bring  Tonie,  a  young  sister  of  Brother  Edgar's 
wife,   who   would  stay  until  she  returned.     Some  days 
after,  their  arrival  was  welcomed  by  me,  and  I  felt  re- 
lieved  when    they  told    me   that   Bradley  had  gone   to 
Philadelphia  and  would  be  kindly  cared  for  by  Mr.  Wills 
and  family.     They  said  that  mother  would  soon  return. 
Tonie  was  a  bright   and  interesting  girl  of  fifteen,  and 
proved  a  great  comfort.     Through   her  I  learned  that 
some  of    Mr.    Roderick's  family  were    ransacking   my 
trunks  and  wearing  some  of  my  choice  clothes,  and  were 
also  greedily  eating  the  food  my  parents  had  brought  hop- 
ing to  tempt  my  appetite,  which  was  very  delicate — as 


78  ONE  woman's  life. 

I  often  did  not  eat  a  spoonful  of  food.  I  now  understood 
that  Rachel's  reason  for  wanting  me  removed  from  Shelby 
to  their  care  was  to  get  money  and  provision  from 
Mr.  Roderick  and  my  father  for  taking  care  of  myself  and 
children,  as  they  were  in  destitute  circumstances.  1  will 
relate  one  little  incident  to  show  how  these  people  were 
practicing  deception  to  make  the  neighbors  believe  that 
I  was  not  ill,  but  feigning  sickness.  One  day  in  the  pres- 
ence of  a  visitor,  Harriet,  who  was  a  tall,  angular  spin- 
ster of  forty  years,  with  sly,  inquisitive  black  eyes,  and  a 
mischievous,  garrulous  tongue,  brought  my  dinner  upon 
two  large  plates.  Passing  my  hand  over  them  I  found 
they  were  loaded  with  food.  ''  Harriet,"  1  said  pleas- 
antly, "  I  cannot  eat  all  of  this."  She  repHed  in  a  soft 
voice.  "  It  will  do  you  good."  At  the  same  time  she  left 
the  room  calling  out  the  visitor.  In  about  a  half  hour  she 
returned  and  taking  the  plates  emptied  the  contents,  of 
which  I  had  only  tasted,  into  the  cupboard.  I  afterwards 
learnedthatthevisitor,havingacuriosity  toknow  if  Ireally 
did  eat  as  much  as  they  reported,  seeing  Harriet  return 
with  the  empty  plates,  asked  her  if  I  had  eaten  all  of  the 
food  in  them.  "  Why,  yes,"  she  cried,  "  every  bite  of  it. 
She  eats  like  a  hog." 

Father's  business  at  Shelby  had  failed,  through  the 
dishonesty  of  one  of  the  members  of  the  firm,  and  becom- 
ing alarmed  at  the  failing  health  of  his  family  and  almost 
in  despair  exchanged  his  property  there  for  some  in  the 
mountains  across  the  Blue  Ridge  in  Mitchell  county. 
During  the  business  transaction  he  passed  several  times 
and  always  called.  I  had  decided  to  have  him  take  me 
away,  but  could  never  find  an  opportunity  of  speaking  to 
him  alone,  some  member  of  the  family  always  being  pres- 


BLIND    AND    HELPLESS.  79 

€nt  listening  to  every  word;  but  my  health  was  improv- 
ing under  the  treatment  of  Dr.  Nichols  ;  so,  fearful  of  the 
results,  should  I  again  be   moved  over  the  rough  roads, 
I  concluded  to  wait  as  patiently  as  possible  until  able  to 
travel  without  injury.     Mr.  Roderick's   people  had  not 
yet  been  able   to  persuade  him  to  force   me   to  get  up, 
take  the  bandages  from  my  eyes  and  go  to  work.     They 
repeatedly  said  that  they  had  to   work  when  they  were 
sick  and  that  I  was  no  better  than  they.     Mr.  Roderick 
had  accomplished  his  object  and  gotten  me  away  from 
my   people  and   all  prospects   of  friends,  so    was    now 
serenely  kind  and  gracious,  seeming  calm  and  interested 
over  our  ruined  prospects.     When  he  was  kind  I  could 
not  help  clinging  to  him  in  my  weakness  hoping  against 
hope,  though  all  affection  for  him  had  been  crushed  out 
of  my  heart  during  that  fearful  journey.      My  friends  at 
this  time  were  forbidden  to  remain  longer.     Tonie  was 
compelled  to  go  home,  and  I  was  left  alone.     Harriet 
wrote  my  parents  a  letter  as  follows  : 

"  31r.  and  Mrs.  Gray : 

"  it  panes  me  to  write  you  our  condition,  as  for  uther 
pearson  or  feamley  cummin  in  here  to  wait  on  Edny  we 
will  object.  This  is  my  residence  and  I  cant  take  in 
borders  and  wold  not  umer  Edny  in  enything  that  did 
not  do  her  eny  good.  I  have  always  been  good  to  sick 
folks  and  allways  knew  when  a  pearson  done  a  faver, 
but  thinks  it  a  honar  for  me  to  wat  on  her,  but  Iwill  show 
her  if  she  cuts  up  there  is  more  rulers  than  Edny  and  I 
think  my  brother  is  smart  anuf  to  manage  his  own  fam- 
iley.  When  a  man  takes  a  wife,  if  she  is  a  sensible  wo- 
man she  will  go  and  stay  with  her  husban.  she  acts 
like  a  fool,  and  all  of  my  nabors  ses  that  tha  don't  know 
how  he  puts  up  with  the  way  you  all  don  and  I  will  not 
put  up  with  it.     What  the  D is  all  of  your  secrets  ? 


80  ONE  woman's  life. 

I  want  them  reviled  and  think  I  will  find  out.  Mrs. 
Gray,  it  seems  to  me  than  when  you,  mr.  or  mrs.  Gray 
comes  up  here  that  there  is  too  much  secrets  agoin  on 
Hke  you  think  that  Edny  is  too  good  to  live  with  her 
husbans  folks.  I  will  not  make  myself  a  slave  for  any 
sich  woman  that  I  believe  could  help  herself,  if  slje 
would.  She  can't  make  a  fool  of  me,  if  she  does  the 
rest,  this  is  written  by  Harriet  Roderick  by  the  consent 
of  my  mother." 

The  above  is  an  exact  copy  as  it  was  written.  This 
letter  was  uncalled  for,  as  father  amply  provided  for  the 
members  of  his  family  who  stayed  with  me.  When  father 
called  again  he  told  me  he  would  bring  mother  and  get 
her  boarded  near  until  I  was  able  to  be  moved.  Left  alone 
with  my  enemies,  I  was  greatly  annoyed  by  the  loud, 
fierce  quarrels  in  which  the  family  frequently  indulged 
and  by  their  rude,  coarse  jests — stories  of  husbands  whip- 
ping their  wives  to  make  them  behave — were  repeated 
for  my  special  benefit.  Often  hours  were  passed  alone 
with  Mr.  Roderick's  mother.  The  death-like  stillness 
and  the  thought  that  she  might  be  standing  by  my  bed 
looking  at  me  with  those  strange  eyes,  sent  chills  of 
terror  from  my  lips.  The  knowledge  that  Earnest  was 
being  neglected  and  harshly  treated  brought  the  first 
tears  that  I  had  been  able  to  shed  since  my  blindness. 
Many  times  I  was  the  object  of  their  wrath  and  vituper- 
ation, yet  1  never  returned  words  or  made  complaints,  feel- 
ing utterly  crushed  by  the  accumulation  of  great  sorrows 
I  was  called  upon  to  endure,  and,  as  I  had  never  engaged 
in  low  quarreling,  I  could  not  begin  now.  I  had  been  with 
them  five  months  when  Mr.  Roderick  heard  Harriet  whip- 
ping Earnest.  This  resulted  in  a  loud  and  fierce  quarrel 
and  ended  in  his  coming   in  and  saying  he  would  not  stay 


BLIND   AND    HELPLESS.  81 

with  such  people  longer.  Other  members  of  the  family- 
joined  in  the  controversy  and  a  perfect  babel  of  voices 
ensued.  I  lay  in  my  darkened  corner  trembling  and  si- 
lent, listening  to  their  screams  of  rage,  well  knowing 
that  I  was  the  object  of  their  hatred  and  malice.  When 
Harriet  and  Rachel  entered  my  room,  they  came  to  my 
bed  and  poured  forth  a  torrent  of  vile,  abusive  language. 
I  was  unable  to  speak  and  still  remained  silent.  I  never 
heard  such  language  before  fall  from  a  woman's  lips. 
Mr.  Roderick  now  said  he  would  take  his  family  imme- 
diately away  to  his  farm  and  began  making  preparations. 
I  remonstrated  against  being  moved  again  but  it  was 
useless.  In  spite  of  all  my  efforts  to  get  well,  I  must  be 
dragged  forth  and  the  work  of  months  undone.  My 
courage  again  failed  and  I  gave  up  the  struggle  in  des- 
pair, wondering  if  God  had  forsaken  me,  not  a  friend 
near.  Must  I  die?  I  was  no  longer  afraid  to  die,  but 
was  striving  to  live  for  the  sake  of  my  children.  Stella 
was  the  only  child  Mr.  Roderick  would  take  with  us,  as 
he  said  he  would  not  take  care  of  Earnest  and  the  babe. 
His  next  oldest  sister,  Caroline,  who  unlike  the  rest  was 
gentle  and  kind  and  had  ever  been  pleasant,  was  left  in 
charge  of  babe  ?>Iarie,  and  while  I  felt  that  she  would  be 
kindly  cared  for,  my  heart  ached  for  poor  little  Earnest 
left  in  Harriet's  and  Rachel's  cruel  hands,  althousfh  Mr 
Roderick  assured  me  that  he  would  return  for  him  very 
soon.  Of  all  my  great  burdens  this  was  the  heaviest 
and  hardest  to  bear.  The  dear  little  boy  who  ever 
clung  to  me  and  was  never  happy  from  my  side 
was  to  be  left  alone  with  these  people  who  hated  him. 
Should  I  die  on  the  way  what  would  become  of 
him?  Father  in  heaven,  spare  me!  Spare  me!!  ISIy 
6 


82  ONE  woman's  life. 

darlings  were  brought  to  my  bed  and  I  kissed  them 
sadly.  Hot  tears  fell  from  my  closed,  painful  eyes 
as  I  felt  my  wasted  form  being  lifted  in  Mr.  Roderick's 
strong  arms,  who  again  placed  me  in  the  jersey.  We 
left  Ernest  crying  mournfully.  The  horses  sprang  for- 
ward, and  a  deathly,  sickening  sensation  passed  over  me 
as  I  heard  the  lonely,  piteous  cries  of  dear  little  Ernest 
sounding  in  the  distance;  while  I  felt  that  "the  bur- 
dens laid  upon  me  were  greater  than  I  could  bear." 

"I've  seen  the  colors  fading  from  all  that  I  could  prize, 
Like  day's  departing  glories  from  out  the  sunset  skies; 
And  full  roughly  I  ihave  ridden  the  stormy  tide  of  life, 
L-ong  years  I've  spent  in  struggling,  in  bitterness  and  strife-" 


CHAPTER  V. 


UNDER  THE  ROD. 

Blind  and  helpless  alone  I  wait, 
The  way  seems  dark  and  prayers  too  late. 
My  anguished  soul  sends  forth  the  cry, 
Father,  save  me  ere  I  die ; 
Save  me  for  my  children  small, 
Leave  them  not  to  sin  and  fall, 
Sending  forth  the  saddened  call, 
Mother,  come  back,  mother." 

Blind  and  helpless,  days  wear  by. 
Sick  and  friendless,  left  to  die; 
The  darkness  deepens  as  I  grope, 
Afraid  to  live,  afraid  to  hope  ; 
They  tell  me  of  a  better  land  ; 
Lord,  I  cannot  see  Thy  hand, 
Around  me  steals  an  icy  band, 
Save  me,  or  I  perish. 


jzzzasi 


m^^l^^^^^T  would  be  difficult  indeed  to  describe  my 
emotion,  when,  after  a  toilsome,  painful  ride, 
we  drove  to  our  old  home.  I  had  wished 
upon  leaving  it  that  I  might  never  see  the 
place  again,  little  thinking  in  what  sense  my 
wish  would  be  fulfilled.  That  I  would  be  brought  back 
blind  and  helpless,  to  the  house  that  had  once  filled  my 
soul  with  dread!  Oh,  why  should  an  all-merciful  Provi- 
dence appoint  this  to  my  lot  ?  It  seemed  singular  that 
my  desire  should  be  carried  out  in  so  strange  and 
terrible  a  manner. 


84  ONE  woman's  life.. 

The  tenants  who  occupied  the  house  and  some  of  the 
neighbors  stood  at  the  gate  watching  Mr.  Roderick 
curiously,  I  felt,  as  he  carried  me  to  the  house. 

Being  informed  by  Mrs.  Burney  (the  tenant's  wife)- 
where  a  servant  could  be  found,  Mr.  Roderick  imme- 
diately sent  for  her.  The  news  had  traveled  before  us 
that  I  imagined  my  illness,  and  I  felt  that  those  around 
were  not  in  sympathy  with  my  sufferings..  The  pain  in 
my  spine  and  eyes  had  increased  to  an  alarming  degree, 
due  to  the  tiresome  trip.  In  a  few  days  I  was  lying  at 
the  gates  of  death,  and  mother  had  not  yet  arrived,  she 
being  engaged  in  making  preparations  for  their  removal 
from  Shelby,  and  not  aware  of  what  had  taken  place. 
Mr.  Roderick  was  furiously  angry  when  he  found  that 
the  journey  had  aggravated  my  disease  and  loudly  up- 
braided me  for  not  getting  well,  called  me  harsh  names, 
and  again  accused  me  of  hypocrisy  and  deceit.  Two 
weeks  later  I  was  a  hopeless  wreck,  with  bloated,  livid 
face,  protruding  eyes  and  shrunken  limbs.  My  suffer- 
ings mentally  and  physically  were  beyond  description, 
my  neck  was  so  weak  that  I  could  not  move  my  head,, 
and  my  shoulders  fell  forward  unless  held  up.  It 
seemed,  indeed,  that  a  cruel  power  was  laid  heavily  upon 
me.  Though  it  was  summer  my  feet  were  icy  cold,, 
and  my  eyes  at  times  pained  me  so  that  I  longed  to  feel 
the  oculist's  knife,  and  even  tried  to  tear  them  from  the 
sockets,  not  quite  having  lost  the  use  of  my  hands,  and 
yet  I  was  too  weak  to  raise  a  cup  of  water  to  my 
parched  lips.  Medicines  and  liquids  now  had  to  be  taken 
through  a  tube,  I  grew  steadily  worse,  and  the  pain  had 
grown  so  terrible  that  it  seemed  beyond  endurance. 

The  servant  neglected   her  duties,  spending  most  of 


UNDER   THE   ROD.  85 

tier  time  laughing  and  chatting  gaily  with  Mrs.  Burney, 
■my  bandaged  eyes  being  one  of  the  subjects  of  their 
mirth. 

The  physician  called  once,  then  refused  to  call  again, 
saying,  *'  It  will  be  useless;  she  is  going  to  die." 

I  felt  that  Mr.  Roderick's  relatives  had  influenced  him 
to  abandon  the  case  on  account  of  the  expense  entailed 
on  their  brother. 

Stella,  was  now  a  mischievous  child  of  four  years, 
and  having  no  one  to  look  after  her  except  Mr.  Rode- 
rick, ran  into  all  kinds  of  danger,  while  Earnest's  pale 
face  and  plaintive  cry  were  ever  haunting  me.  Would 
mother  never  come?  Already  my  breath  came  in  quick, 
short  gasps.  Would  she  come  in  time  to  receive  my 
-dying  charges?     Still  the  hours  dragged  on. 

At  last  she  came,  and  found  that  the  servant  had  been 
•discharged  while  Mr.  Roderick  acted  as  nurse.  Glancing 
at  my  wasted  form  and  face,  she  left  the  room  and  went 
where  I  could  not  hear  her  violent  weeping.  My  father 
and  brothers  came  with  mother,  all  of  them  leaving  in  a 
few  days  for  their  mountain  home,  but  mother  remained 
some  weeks.  Revelling  in  the  bright  sunshine  of  hope 
for  an  instant,  as  it  were,  the  horizon  had  again  become 
•darkened  with  clouds  of  despair,  for  I  tortured  myself 
with  the  thought  that  I  had  committed  an  unpardonable 
sin  in  allowing  myself  to  be  moved  when  1  knew  what 
the  result  would  be.  Mother  reproved  me  for  this  by 
saying,  "  How  could  a  poor  helpless  creature  like  you 
resist  the  wills  of  brutal  people  ?  "  Her  words  failed  to 
comfort  me.  A  dark  shadow  rested  upon  my  soul  as  I 
thought  of  my  Heavenly  Father's  displeasure. 

Lying  at  the  door  of  death,  I  seemed   to  be   looking 


86  ONE  woman's  life. 

into  eternity,  beholding  the  horror  of  millions  of  lost  and 
ruined  souls  mourning  in  endless  woe,  while  fiendish 
forms  danced  in  triumph  over  their  helpless  victims.  I 
groaned  inwardly  at  the  thought  of  many  gay  and  reck- 
less beings  sinking  at  last  into  the  bottomless  pit,  and 
was  unable  to  understand  the  Savior's  great  love  and 
mercy;  so  I  felt  afraid  to  die.  Could  all  realize  as  I  did 
the  horrors  of  an  unprepared  deathbed,  what  cries  for 
forgiveness  would  hourly  ascend  to  the  throne  of  grace; 
what  piety  and  devotion  would  exist;  what  zeal  and 
labor;  what  patience,  love  and  charity  would  inspire 
hearts.  The  unconverted  state  of  my  relatives  weighed 
heavily  upon  me,  and  I  shuddered  at  their  frightful  fate, 
should  they  die  unforgiven.  The  only  comfort  my  bur- 
dened soul  found  was  the  sweet  passages  from  the  Bible 
read  by  Mr.  Roderick  and  mother,  and  the  soft,  beautiful 
hymns  sung  occasionally  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Burney  in  the 
adjoining  room,  whose  hearts  were  slightly  touched  by 
my  silent  suffering,  for  tears  had  not  come  to  my  relief. 
Often  I  was  coaxed  to  sleep  under  these  soothing  influ- 
ences, for  the  nights  were  spent  in  great  pain  and 
prayer. 

Letters  were  received  from  Mr.  Wills  stating  that  my 
brother's  case  was  considered  a  serious  and  perhaps 
hopeless  one.  Poor  brother.  What  a  sad  life  his  would 
be  should  he  never  regain  his  sight.  How  earnestly  I 
prayed  that  God  would  not  condemn  him  to  such  a 
fate,  and  I  am  glad  to  say  my  prayers  were  answered, 
for  early  in  September  he  returned  and  came  to  see 
me  on  his  way  home,  giving  me  a  joyful  surprise  by 
his  restored  sight.  Mother  remained  with  me  five 
weeks,  when  she  was  compelled  to  return  home.     She 


UNDER   THE   ROD.  87 

left  in  great  sorrow,  feeling  that  she  might  never  see 
my  face  again,  but  she  said  she  would  pray  for  me 
daily,  and  believed  that  our  united  prayers  would  be 
answered.  Words  fail  when  I  attempt  to  write  of  the 
painful  summer  that  followed.  Left  after  my  mother's 
departure,  entirely  at  the  mercy  of  Mr.  Roderick, 
without  a  friend  to  speak  a  consoling  word,  my  heart 
nearly  broke  over  the  multiplied  afflictions.  He  was 
unkind  and  even  brutal  at  times;  often  quarrelling  and 
upbraiding  me  until  midnight.  I  endured  the  tortures 
of  thirst  in  silence  during  the  long  night;  I  could  not 
bear  to  ask  him  for  water,  though  burning  with  fever, 
or  to  raise  my  head  that  I  might  breathe  more  easily. 
The  threats  he  would  make  against  the  lives  of  my  fam- 
ily, added  to  the  horrors  of  the  situation,  whilst  his  con- 
stant assertion  that  the  people  in  his  part  of  the  country 
hated  them,  made  me  anxious  for  their  safety.  My 
slumbers  were  disturbed  by  terrible  visions.  I  would  pic- 
ture them  surrounded  by  dangers  of  the  most  frightful 
nature  and  see  their  murdered  forms  and  hear  their 
dying  groans  until  cries  of  terror  rang  from  my  lips,  des- 
troying the  visions  and  recalling  me  to  a  sense  of  my 
helplessness. 

Blind  and  sick,  friendless  and  in  despair!  Oh,  my  God, 
why  hast  thou  forsaken  me? 

Spiders  that  had  gathered  in  the  curtains  around  my 
bed  crawled  over  my  face,  and  my  life  was  tortured. 
Many  times  I  heard  of  Earnest  getting  lost  in  the  woods; 
as  I  thought  of  this  little  one  trying  to  find  his  way 
through  the  woods  which  held  no  terror  for  his  brave 
little  heart,  trying  to  reach  the  safety  and  love  of   the 


88  ONE  woman's  life. 

mother's  sheltering  arms,  my  soul  was  wrung  with  an- 
guish. 

Mr.  Roderick  had  refused  to  allow  my  parents  to  take 
any  of  the  children  home  with  them,  making  me  drink 
from  the  cup  of  sorrow  so  full  and  bitter  even  to  its 
dregs. 

Mr.  Burney  having  an  altercation  with  Mr.  Roderick, 
they  confined  themselves  exclusively  to  their  rooms  and 
early  in  the  autumn  moved  away.  It  was  in  September 
that  my  sufferings  abated  slightly,  though  I  still  lay 
motionless  and  exhausted.  About  this  time  father  brought 
Tonie  to  stay  awhile  (she  had  been  left  in  my  mother's 
care  by  her  brother). 

Mr.  Roderick  now  became  pleasant  for  a  while,  mak- 
ing life  a  little  happier.  An  inward  struggle  had  been 
going  on  in  my  heart,  since  that  fearful  journey,  as  to 
whether  I  could  forgive  Rachel,  who  was  the  chief  cause 
of  my  trouble.  At  last  through  the  grace  of  God  I  suc- 
ceeded in  overcoming  all  bitterness  I  had  cherished  toward 
her,  realizinfT  that  I  was  unfitted  for  heaven  with  an  un- 
forgiving  spirit.  The  cloud  which  had  rested  over  me 
like  a  pall  was  now  removed,  my  Savior  seemed  so  near 
that  I  felt  that  I  could  speak  to  him  forgetful  of  all 
around.  Lifted  above  earth,  absorbed  in  the  wondrous 
visions  that  enraptured  my  soul  with  supreme  joy  and 
delight,  I  seemed  surrounded  with  angelic  throngs  whose 
faces  shone  with  love  and  holiness.  Could  I  have  died 
then  my  face  would  have  been  wreathed  in  smiles,  and 
shouts  of  triumph  would  have  been  on  my  lips,  but  it  was 
not  to  be.  The  voices  of  my  children  called  me  back 
from  these  beautiful  reveries  to  a  knowledge  of  their  des- 


UNDER   THE   ROD.  89 

olation,   bidding    me  struggle    for    their   sakes    to  live, 
though  life  looked  dark  and  despairing. 

Help  me,  Lord,  to  bear  with  patience, 

Giv^e  me  strength,  until  the  end  ; 
Save  me,  Father,  for  my  children ; 

Freely  of  thy  spirit  lend. 

When  mother  returned  she  found  that  Mr.  Roderick 
had  ceased  to  make  any  effort  for  my  recovery,  and  had 
even  inquired  where  I  wished  to  be  buried.  She  trem- 
blingly followed  him  from  the  room  to  ask  if  he  thought 
my  case  was  hopeless.  "Yes,"  he  replied,  "she  is  too 
*hypoed'  to  get  well,  but  she  could  if  she  would." 

Through  mother's  efforts  a  physician  was  procured, 
and  in  a  few  weeks  my  condition  was  somewhat  improved. 

yir.  Roderick's  niece  persuaded  an  orphan  girl,  who 
was  cruelly  treated  by  the  people  she  lived  with, 
to  run  away  and  come  to  us.  Though  a  poor,  ignorant 
creature,  she  proved  a  faithful  servant,  her  kind  and  ten- 
der care  giving  me  a  little  courage.  About  this  time  I 
was  deeply  impressed  by  the  cure  of  Miss  Carrie  Judd, 
Her  case  was  similar  to  mine;  she  had  been  confined  to 
her  bed  for  two  years,  and  had  been  suddenl}'-  restored 
through  prayers  offered  in  faith.  I  almost  doubted  this 
wonderful  cure,  as  I  could  not  understand  the  faith  that 
can  heal  physical  infirmities.  Five  months  later,  in  Juue, 
the  month  of  roses,  another  little  girl  came  to  add  to  my 
care  and  sorrow.  Mother  offered  to  take  the  babe  home 
with  her.  Mr.  Roderick  did  not  object,  so  when  it  was 
a  month  old  she  left  with  it  going  about  thirty-six  miles 
across  the  Blue  Ridjie. 

Mr.  Roderick  became  very  kind  now.  He  let  Earnest 
•come  home,  and  when  the  dear  Httle  head  was  pillowed 


90  ONE  woman's  life. 

upon  my  breast,  we  were  both  made  supremely  happy 
by  Mr.  Roderick,  granting  my  prayer,  that  he  should  not 
be  taken  from  me  again".  I  was  comforted  by  the  fact 
that  Marie  was  kindly  treated  by  the  very  people  who 
had  used  Earnest  and  myself  cruelly,  and  Stella  was 
placed  under  the  care  of  a  young  Christian  lady,  who 
had  recently  opened  a  school  in  our  district.  I  found 
Miss  Holmes,  her  teacher,  a  pleasant  and  sympathizing- 
friend,  ever  ready  to  comfort  and  cheer  me,  spending  a 
portion  of  her  time  at  my  bedside,  reading  to  me  Tal- 
madge's  and  Spurgeon's  eloquent  sermons. 

The  pain  I  had  suffered  had  been  partly  alleviated  by 
the  careful  attention  of  Dr.  Green,  and  I  hoped  some- 
time to  be  able  to  walk  and  see.  One  of  my  greatest 
desires  had  been  to  look  upon  the  face  of  little  Marie, 
and  one  sunny  day  in  September  Caroline  brought  her  to 
see  me,  and  while  she  sat  at  my  side  a  great  cry  arose 
in  my  heart  to  God,  that  he  would  permit  me  to  look  once 
more  upon  her  face.  Immediately  I  raised  the  bandage 
from  my  eyes.  What  did  I  look  upon?  Was  the  fair 
etherial  face  before  me  one  of  the  beautiful  illusions  I 
was  accustomed  to  see?  This  sweet  face  lifted  to  my 
gaze  with  wistful  eyes  looking  earnestly  into  mine — could 
it  be  a  picture  created  by  a  diseased  eye?  Replacing  the 
bandage  the  face  was  hid  from  my  excited  vision. 
Oh,  the  rapture  that  was  mine  at  this  moment!  I  knew 
that  I  had  looked  upon  the  countenance  of  my  own  dar- 
ling. Again  I  looked  long  and  eagerly  at  the  face  be- 
fore me.  My  delighted  cry,  "I  can  see  Marie,"  brought 
Stella  to  the  bed,  when  my  eyes  closed,  leaving  only  a 
faint  picture  of  her  eager  face.  Days  of  great  anxiety 
and  suspense  followed,    in   which  I  tried   in  vain  to  open 


UNDER   THE   RODi.  9K 

my  eyes.     Once  only  I  saw  the  faces  o£  Stella  and  Earn- 
est, then  followed    days    of  darkness  and  despair;    my 
hopes  fading  like  some  lovely  dream.  Late  in  the  autumn 
Mr.  Roderick  began  to  treat  Maggie  (the  orphan  girl)  in 
a  cruel  and  brutal  manner,   and  one  dark  night  he  drove 
her  from  the  house,  throwing  a  large  stick  at  her  retreat- 
ing form;  at  the  same  time  he  gave  vent  to  horrible  threats 
and  screams  of  rage.      Violent  tremors  shook  my  feeble 
frame,  as  I  lay  behind  the  curtains  around  the  bed,  listen- 
ing to  the  wild  din,  and  sadly  thinking  of  the  unfortunate, 
desolate  orphan  driven  into  the  loneh'-  night,. who  I  knew 
would  shrink  from   making  any  complaint,  feeling,  as  I 
did,  that  her  story  would  not  be  credited..    She  was  not 
intelligent  but  had  a  kind  and  faithful  heart  and  was  will- 
ing to  obey.     Should  she  never  return,  I  would  be  again, 
left  alone  and  friendless.     Earnest  would  be  sent  back  to 
the  people   he  feared   so  much.    As  I  was  thinking  this 
I  heard  sobs  from  the  next  room.     Maggie  not  knowing; 
where   to  go,  and  not  wishing  to  leave  me,   had  crept 
back    and,   unable    to  control  her  grief,,  had   burst  into 
tears.       Mr.  Roderick   discovering  her   had.  ordered  her 
harshly  to  perform  her  nightly  duties..     She  obeyed  and 
sat  down  and  wept  as  if    her  heart  would  break,  for  she 
knew  that  she  would  eventually  have  to  leave.       I  could 
now  find  relief  in  the  cries  of  sorrow    rising    from    an 
overcharged  heart,  and  I  began  to  weep  violently,     Mr., 
Roderick  had  become  quiet,  but  was  again   aroused  by 
this  outbreak.     He  loudly  censured  me,  and  fiercely  up- 
braided Maggie   for  being  the  cause  of  m.y  distress,  his- 
threats  becoming  so  abusive  that  we  were  both  silenced^. 
In  the  long  cold  winter  following  1  suffered  much  from, 
exciting  events,  and  also  from  the  cold  which,  was  in- 


■i92  ONE  woman's  life. 

tense.  Mr.  Roderick  continually  cross,  sulky  and  quar- 
relsome ;  Maggie  though  faithful,  was  a  poor  cook  and 
house-keeper,  and  my  food  was  coarse,  unclean  and 
poorly  prepared.  The  newly  acquired  strength  failed  me, 
-and  my  heart  grew  sick  at  the  loss  of  new  barn  hopes. 
One  of  my  brothers  was  at  home  ill,  so  this  kept  my 
mother  from  coming  to  my  relief,  and  my  only  visitors 
were  father  and  two  younger  brothers,  and  at  times  a 
•little  ray  of  sunshine  that  stole  through  a  crack  in  the 
roof,  shining  directly  in  my  face  at  noon. 

Light  was  not  so  painful  now,  and  I  gladly  hailed  this 
bright  gleam  as  a  heavenl}'-  messenger.  I  felt  that  Christ 
was  with  me  helping  me  to  bear  all  this  sorrow,  and  I 
knew  his  loving  hands  were  leading  and  guiding  me 
through  the  dark  paths  I  was  traveling.  Spiritually  I 
was  helped  and  strengthened,  but  from  some  unknown 
cause  ro  me,  earthly  burdens  were  not  lightened.  When 
Jightly  sleeping,  strange  visions  appeared  btfore  me  of 
the  judgment  da}^;  I  seemed  to  hear  the  rushing  of 
mighty  winds,  the  sounding  of  trumpets,  while  the  sky 
would  become  dark  and  angry;  strange  sounds,  pale 
•horses  and  riders  filled  the  air  and  surrounded,  me  the 
-cries  of  woe!  woe  J  woe!  going  up  from  many  voices. 
My  first  thought  on  these  occasions  was  of  my  parents 
and  brothers,  whom  I  knew  were  unprepared  for  the 
judgment;  and  in  my  anguish  I  would  scream  aloud, 
bringing  Maggie  and  little  Stella  to  my  bed  to  know 
what  was  the  matter.  At  other  limes  I  would  see  Christ 
coming  in  great  glory,  surrounded  with  shining  angels, 
-and  I  could  feel  myself  caught  up  in  the  clouds  to  meet 
him.  My  soul  was  filled  with  joy  and  rapture,  such  as 
I  had  never  known  before.    Oh,  that  all  the  world  could 


UNDER   THE    R01>.  93.' 

know  their  danger!  I  would  sigh  upon  awakening,  my 
soul  filled  with  an  unutterable  longing  for  the  redemp- 
tion of  souls  traveling  into  eternity. 

Early  the  next  spring  Caroline  brought  Marie  to  see 
me,  planting  another  wound  deep  in  my  heart,  for  I  was 
embittered  by  the  knowledge  that  she  loved  the  people 
who  had  so  cruelly  wronged  her  mother  and  were  the 
cause  of  her  present  sufferings;  all  her  sweet  infantile 
smiles  and  caresses  were  lavished  on  another,  while 
her  own  mother  pined  for  them, 

Mr,  Roderick's  bachelor  brother,  who  had  been  one 
of  my  greatest  tormentors,  and  had  said  many  bitter 
things  of  me  in  the  settlement,  sneering  at  my  illness  and 
my  bandaged  eyes  and  lady-like  ways,  now  took  delight 
in  tormenting  me  afresh  by  showing  his  success  in  gain-  , 
ing  Marie's  affection,  but  I  would  smile  and  bear  it,  hid- 
ing all  signs  of  the  canker-worm  gnawing  at  my  heart, 
for  I  had  learned  to  control  my  feelings. 

Mr.  Roderick  now  indulged  frequently  in  loud  fits  of 
temper,  thus  straining  my  mind  to  the  utmost  to  prevent 
Stella  and  Earnest  annoying  him,  and  I  had  to  study  my 
own  words  more  than  ever  before,  that  they  might  pacify 
and  not  excite  his  anger.  He  forbade  my  father  and 
brothers  visiting  us,  threatening  to  kill  them  if  they 
did.  I  was  no  longer  able  to  bear  in  silence  the  great 
pain  I  endured  in  mind  and  body,  and  constantly  for  two 
years  appealingly  raised  my  hands  heavenward  and  called 
aloud  for  mercy.  Poor  mother,  a  witness  of  my  ex- 
treme mental  agony,  would  often  beg  me  to  tell  her  all^ 
saying,  "Edna,  my  child,  tell  me  what  it  is  that  distresses 
you  so?  Tell  me  all."  "Mother,  I  cannot,  it  is  too 
dreadful  to  mention;  my  sorrows  are  too  great,  I  cannot 


'.94  'Oi^E  woman's  life. 

talk  of  them."  And  I  would  not.  I  had  not  the  strength 
and  heart  to  relate  my  griefs.  Was  it  any  wonder  that 
my  mother's  heart  was  broken?  Often  she  would  leave 
my  room  and  wander  into  the  gloomy  forest  weeping 
•for  the  ruined  prospects  of  her  only  daughter.  Now  I 
am  to  lose  this  comfort  also,  the  association  of  my 
'dear  parents,  for  they  were  forbidden  the  house;  but  for 
their  safety  I  must  give  them  up,  and  I  could  not  rest 
until  I  exacted  the  promise  fi'om  my  father  that  he  would 
not  come  again. 

During  those  wretched  spring  months  Maggie  was 
driven  from  the  house,  as  Mr.  Roderick  became  so  vio- 
lent, he  kicked  and  beat  her  so,  she  was  compelled  to 
fly  for  her  safety.  Poor  Maggie,  her  burden  had  been 
heavy,  and  I  only  prayed  that  she  had  found  a  resting 
place  at  last  with  some  good  person.  She  left  an  old 
brass  ring  in  my  trunk,  which  I  still  keep  as  a  memento 
of  her  faithfulness.  Mr.  Roderick  made  no  effort  to 
"find  any  one  to  fill  her  place,  thinking  the  story  of  her 
hardships  had  become  known.  He  was,  therefore,  com- 
pelled to  wait  on  me,  cook  our  meals  and  do  the  farm 
work. 

Stella  was  attending  school,  so  I  was  left  entirely 
alone  a  large  part  of  the  time.  The  only  sound  that 
broke  the  silence  was  the  singing  of  the  locusts  and 
Earnest's  little  voice  when  he  came  from  the  field  and 
would  say,  *'  Mother,  do  you  want  anything  ?"  He  was 
not  sent  away,  as  I  feared,  and  Mr.  Roderick  again  be- 
came more  pleasant.  A  letter  was  received  from  home 
stating  that  mother  wanted  to  come  to  see  me  soon.  Mr. 
Roderick  relenting,  sent  word  for  her  to  come.  The 
lonely  hours    were    spent    in   listening  for  her  carriage 


UNDER   THE   ROD.  95 

"wheels  and  craving  to  hear  mother's  voice  and  the 
prattle  of  little  Bertha,  whom  I  had  never  seen.  How 
I  longed  for  some  friendly  voice  to  break  the  weary- 
monotony  of  lying,  day  after  day,  exhausted  from  loss  of 
sleep  and  protracted  suffering,  heart  and  brain  racked 
with  the  struggle  to  keep  Mr.  Roderick  in  a  pleasant 
mood  when  at  the  house. 

About  this  time  I  received  the  news  of  the  death  of 
my  beloved  Aunt  Mary,  the  friend  and  comfort  of  my 
childhood.  The  news  caused  me  no  pain  as  she  seemed 
nearer  in  heaven  than  on  earth.  At  times  I  felt  her 
presence  with  other  angels  around  the  bed,  then  smiles 
(that  were  strangers  to  me)  would  flit  over  my  face, 
causing  little  Stella  to  ask  what  I  was  thinking  about. 

One  day,  now  being  most  of  the  time  alone,  I  fancied 
that  I  heard  sighing  over  the  bed,  and  then  I  could  dis- 
tinguish strange  noises  outside  as  of  something  being 
beaten  and  violently  thrown  about,  also  groaning  cries. 
I  remembered  hearing  some  one  say  a  few  days  previous 
that  an  insane  man  was  running  at  large  in  the  settlement. 
The  terrible  thought  instantly  flashed  over  me  that  it 
was  he  who  had  sighed  over  the  bed,  and  that  he  was 
now  raging  in  the  yard.  I  feared  lest  he  should  return 
and  kill  me  as  I  was  helpless.  Terror  took  possession 
of  me,  and  my  imagination  peopled  the  place  with  horrors 
which  were  intensified  by  being  unseen.  I  tore  the 
bandage  from  my  eyes  and  strained  every  nerve  to  raise 
the  closed  lids;  at  the  same  time  I  tried  to  move  my  par- 
alyzed body,  but  it  was  all  in  vain.  In  this  intense 
agony  every  second  seemed  ages  to  my  tortured  brain. 

I  expected  to  be  seized  by  some  screaming  maniac  and 
all  the  fearful  tales  I  had  heard   in  my  childhood  rushed 


96  ONE  woman's  life. 

through  my  exciter!  brain  and  could  my  hair  have  turned 
through  fear  it  would  now  be  as  white  as  snow.  Many 
moments  passed  as  I  lay  there,  straining  ev^ery  nerve  to 
catch  the  sound  of  some  voice.  Would  Mr.  Roderick 
and  Earnest  never  come?  When  they  came  they  found 
me  nearly  senseless,  although  the  noises  had  ceased 
sometime , before.  Mr.  Roderick  found  an  out-house  torn 
down  and  said  some  wild  hogs  did  the  mischief,  but  I  had 
doubts  about  it,  and  always  after  that  felt  afraid  to  be  left 
alone. 

About  the  middle  of  May  mother  came,  bringing  little 
Bertha  with  her.  She  was  now  about  ten  months  old. 
They  placed  her  in  my  bed  beside  me  and  I  passed  my 
hand  gently  over  the  baby  face,  which  mother  said 
looked  like  a  doll.  The  little  creature  was  afraid  of 
strangers,  but  some  inslinct  seemed  to  draw  her  to  me 
and  she  placed  her  sweet  little  face  close  to  my  haggard 
one,  then  cooed  softl}^  and  tried  to  displace  the  bandages 
from  my  eyes.  This  was  my  own  babe  and  I  had  never 
seen  her  and,  perhaps,  never  would.  The  ;last  thought, 
so  bitter,  was  ever  ready  to  rise  and  cause  me  sorrow. 
Mother  was  fifty-five  years  old,  and  was  weary  and  nearly 
ill  from  hardships,  but  finding  the  house  in  great  dis- 
order was  compelled  to  work  beyond  her  strength;  but 
Mr.  Roderick  was  very  kind  to  her.  The  baby  grew 
fond  of  me  and  passedjmuch  time  g^t  my  bedside.  She 
was  an  affectionate  little  creature,  whose  tears  were 
ever  ready  to  flow  at  an  unkmd  word,  and  she  would 
come  to  me  for  sympathy,  keeping  the  pillow  stained 
with  her  tears  and  the  marks  of  her  little  fingers. 
Realizing  that  mother's  health  could  not  bear  the 
strain,  I  v/as  very  anxious  that  Mr.  Roderick  should  pro- 


UNDER   THE   ROD.  97 

cure  help.  This  he  promised  to  do,  but  he  did  not 
keep  his  word,  yet  he  helped  mother  in  many  ways. 
She  found  the  time  to  read  two  or  three  chapters  from 
the  Bible  each  day,  and  how  those  sweet  and  comforting 
passages  cheered  me  no  one  can  ever  know.  Several 
times  as  she  opened  the  book  these  words  met  her  eyes, 
*'And  the  blind  shall  see  and  the  lame  walk."  "  There, 
my  dear,"  she  once  said,  "  }iOu  may  cheer  up.  God  says 
you  will  walk  and  see."  I  could  only  answer,  "Yes,  but 
it  will  not  be  until  I  reach  that  peaceful  shore  where  there 
is  no  sufferinor  nor  sorrow." 

Mr.  Roderick  having  failed  to  procure  anything  to 
make  a  light  or  fire  at  night,  we  suffered  great  inconven- 
ience, and  mother  was  very  anxious  on  account  of  my 
health.  One  night  some  hunters  passed  and  she  begged 
some  of  their  pine,  or  commonly  called  "  torchlight 
wood."  This  night — the  30th  of  September — Celeste,  my 
fifth  and  last  child,  was  born.  The  night  of  her  birth 
no  physician,  nor  even  a  nurse,  was  provided  and  a  great 
change  was  apparent  in  Mr.  Roderick's  conduct  and  he, 
more  than  ever,  showed  the  evil  spirit  that  possessed 
him.  He  even  kicked  little  Bertha  over  and  acted  so 
strangely  that  mother,  who  was  entirely  overcome  as 
she  thought  I  was  in  a  dying  condition,  fainted  and  sank 
to  the  floor.  Mr.  Roderick  passed  by  her  and,  with  coarse 
words,  refused  to  assist  her  to  her  feet. 

One  week  after  this  my  infant  lay  at  the  point  of 
death.  It  had  never  been  well  and  cried  incessantly. 
The  weather  suddenly  changed  from  warm  to  cold  and 
I  had  become  so  weak  and  m}^  form  was  so  wasted  that 
I  could  not  keep  warm.  Mr.  Roderick  persisted  in 
throwing  the  cover    from  around   me,  and  leaving  the 


98  ONE  woman's  life, 

doors  wide  open  so  that  the  icy  wind  would  blow  or> 
my  bed.  When  I  was  lifted  from  the  bed  he  would  not 
allow  mother  to  put  any  cover  around  me  or  hose  on 
my  feet.  For  days  I  lay  at  the  gates  of  death  longing 
to  join  the  celestial  throngs  beyond  the  river.  Only  my 
dear  mother's  tender  care  and  my  strong  desire  to  get 
well  for  my  children  prevented  my  crossing  to  the  other 
side.  Mother's  health  failed  fast.  She  grew  weaker 
every  day,  but  was  compelled  to  keep  up,  and  for  their 
sakes  I  forced  the  few  mouthfuls  of  food  I  ate  to  retain 
the  little  spark  of  life  and  not  die.  Mr.  Roderick,  seeing 
that  it  was  impossible  for  mother  to  take  care  of  little 
Bertha,  hired  his  sister  Rachel  to  take  her  home,  although 
it  was  very  much  against  his  will  and  he  was  ver}^  angry 
about  it.  They  came  to  take  her  home  and  she  was 
torn  from  my  arms  with  only  a  farewell  kiss. 

About  this  time  I  received  kind  messages  and  presents 
from  our  Old  Fort  friends  and  from  Mrs.  Maynard,  a 
Scottish  lady,  of  whom  I  had  been  very  fond  in  my 
girlhood.  What  joy  it  kindled  in  my  heart  to  know 
that  I  was  not  entirely  forgotten  by  those  whom  I  loved 
so  dearly,  to  know  that  my  memory  was  still  in  the 
hearts  of  my  old  friends,  even  though  I  was  blind  and  a 
helpless  wreck. 

Soon  after  this  father  came  to  see  us  and  when  he 
discovered  our  condition  he  immediately  went  in  search 
of  help.  He  was  not  successful  and,  being  taken  sick 
with  pneumonia,  was  compelled  to  return  to  his  home. 
The  following  weeks  were  filled  with  the  most  terrible 
suffering  and  despair,  the  heart-rending  cries  of  my  little 
babe  and  the  cruel  threats  of  its  father  filled  my  soul 
with  dread.     We  had  neither  wood  nor  lights  and  many 


UNDER   THE   ROD.  99 

nights  my  poor  mother  would  sit  shivering  by  a  fire 
made  from  bark  she  had  gathered  in  the  woods.  In  her 
arms  lay  the  wailing  infant  whom  we  expected  hourly 
would   breathe  its  last. 

One  night  mother  was  too  exhausted  to  procure  any 
bark  or  wood  to  make  a  fire  or  light,  and  the  sick  babe 
cried  dismally  in  the  darkness.  I  asked  mother  if  any- 
thing could  be  done  to  relieve  it.  "I  cannot  tell,"  she 
said,  "  but  if  I  only  had  a  light  I  would  try  to  do  what 
I  could."  Mr.  Roderick,  rising  in  the  bed,  stormed  at  us 
with  an  oath.  '^  If  you  women  want  a  light  you  can  make 
it.  I  shall  not  wait  upon  you,  and  if  the  d — 1  of  a  babe 
wants  to  die,  let  it!  I  don't  care!"  He  continued  in  this 
strain,  cursing,  throwing  his  arms  wildly  and  screaming  in 
his  wrath.  Mother  lay  so  quiet  for  some  time  that  I  be- 
came alarmed  at  her  unusual  silence.  Finally  she  crept 
from  her  bed  and  went  out  into  the  dark  night.  Groping 
her  way  to  the  woods  she  found  some  bark  and  returned, 
made  a  fire,  over  which  she  hovered  with  the  sick,  fret- 
ting infant  until  dawn.  Next  morning  mother  told  me 
that  during  this  wild  scene  with  Mr.  Roderick  she  had 
peculiar  sensations  as  if  a  great  black  wave  passed  over 
her,  and  she  was  unable  to  move.  She  now  said  that 
for  the  first  time  she  comprehended  why  I  lived  in  such 
mortal  fear  of  this  man,  and  said  that  some  immediate 
steps  must  be  taken.  She  would  arouse  the  whole  com- 
munity. My  father  at  home  was  in  ignorance  of  all  this, 
but  we  determined  to  send  him  word  the  first  opportunity. 
Opening  the  Bible,  for  strength  in  our  trial,  her  eyes 
again  fell  upon  the  words,  "  The  blind  shall  see  and  the 
lame  shall  walk,"  and  also,  "  Daughter,  be  of  good  com- 
fort, thy  faith  hath  made  thee  whole."  Coming  to  my  bed, 


100  ONE  woman's  life. 

she  said:  "Daughter,  do  not  despair.  Some  day  you 
will  see  and  walk  and  have  the  love  of  all  your  children 
and  have  them  with  you."  She  said  also :  "  Mr.  Roderick 
will  receive  his  punishment,  too.  In  his  old  age  he  will 
be  left  lonely  and  desolate."  Her  words  fell  as  by  in- 
spiration and  filled  me  with  hope  and  confidence  in  the 
future.  But  for  this  courage  I  would  not  have  endured 
the  severe  trials  that  followed.  Were  her  words  pro- 
phetic? Could  I,  blind  and  bedridden,  ever  hope  to  see 
and  walk  and  have  the  happiness  of  my  loved  ones  with 
me  again  in  peace  and  comfort  ?  God  is  good  and  his 
ways  past  understanding.  How  will  it  all  end?  The 
result  only  time  can  tell.  Mother  told  me,  ''  God  tempers 
the  wind  to  the  shorn  lamb.  You  possess  a  sweet  bless- 
ing in  the  five  dear  children  so  lovely  in  disposition  and 
entirely  unlike  their  father."  "  For  this  I  have  constanly 
prayed,"  I  repHed.  "I  could  not  bear  that  they  should  be 
like  him  now,  and  God  has  answered  my  prayer." 

Another  night,  when  mother  was  overcome  with  sleep 
and  sick  from  mental  and  physical  suffering,  she  fell 
into  a  heavy  stupor,  and  I  could  not  arouse  her,  I  lay 
listening  to  the  fitful  moans  of  the  baby  and  I  could  not 
arouse  Mr.  Roderick  to  get  up  and  do  something  to  re- 
lieve it.  He  would  do  nothing,  calling  the  poor  little  suf- 
ferer terrible  names  and  saying,  if  it  wanted  to  die  let 
it,  he  did  not  care.  From  lo  o'clock  at  night  until  day- 
light the  poor  little  infant  wailed  in  almost  death's  agony ^ 
the  emaciated  form  completely  exhausted  by  intense  suf- 
fering, and  Mr.  Roderick  would  not  arouse  and  care  for 
it,  and  I  myself  was  unable  to  move.  I  lay  in  mortal 
agony,  tearing  my  hair  and  groaning  in  anguish  of 
spirit.   My  chest  and  neck  were  blue,  my  hands  clinched 


UNDER    THE    ROD.  103 

•until  the  nails  buried  into  them  through  that  long,  awful 
night.  I  can  never  forget  it.  As  daylight  dawned 
mother  aroused  from  her  death-like  stupor  and  soon 
silenced  the  sick,  babe  for  a  little  while.  It  was  so  thin 
and  ill  it  had  to  be  carried  on  a  pillow. 

Mother  had  now  become  completely  prostrated  from 
so  much  care.  Her  nerves  had  been  shattered  by  the 
brutal  treatment  she  had  received  from  the  man  in  whose 
power  we  were.  She  had  become  so  afraid  of  Mr. 
Roderick  that  she  would  nearly  faint  when  he  came  into 
the  room.  She  said  she  never  realized  how  much  I  suf- 
fered all  alone.  At  times  she  would  wring  her  hands  and 
cry  aloud,  "  What  have  I  done  to  consign  my  only 
daughter  to  such  a  fate!" 

One  night  the  terrible  truth  was  forced  upon  me  that 
my  mother's  nerves  and  brain  were  shattered.  How 
■can  I  attempt  to  express  what  my  feelings  were  at  this 
new  and  unexpected  trouble.  Father  and  Bradley  came 
and  took  her  away,  and  would  have  taken  me,  but  I  was 
too  ill  to  be  moved  and  would  not  consent  to  leave  my 
children.  Mr.  Roderick  had  his  sister  Rachel  take  the 
babe.  When  I  kissed  it  I  thought  it  would  be  the  last 
time,  and  I  prayed  to  God  if  it'v/as  his  will,  to  take  her 
to  himself,  that  she  might  escape  the  terrible  fate  that 
seemed  to  await  her.  Better  death  than  left  to  their 
hands. 

When  mother  left  she  said  she  would  return  as  soon  as 
she  recovered,  and  that  she  would  arouse  the  whole 
country  and  have  me  taken  away.  She  little  thought 
that  years  would  elapse  and  many  strange  things  would 
happen  before  we  met  again.  Before  leaving  she  knelt 
at  my  bedside  and  offered  a  fervent  prayer  to  God  that 


104  ONE  woman's  life. 

we  should  meet  again.  One  farewell  embrace,  a  parting 
kiss  and  mother  had  left  me.  My  patient,  self-sacrificing 
mother  !  How  her  love  helped  me  to  bear  the  heavy 
burden  which  had  been  laid  upon  me. 

Mr.  Roderick  then  procured  the  services  of  a  young, 
ignorant  country  girl,  but  when  the  spring  came  she  left. 
I  did  not  care,  for  she  was  very  untidy  and  impudent. 
The  care  of  the  children  and  house  work  had  always  re- 
ceived my  attention  and  was  a  great  strain  upon  me,  but  I 
did  it  all  very  faithfully.  Letters  from  home  brought 
the  sad  news  that  mother  was  still  failing,  and  had  been 
carried  to  the  nearest  town  in  order  that  she  might  receive 
the  best  medical  aid. 

About  this  time  a  strange  woman  came  to  the  house 
and  Mr.  Roderick  procured  her  services.  She  was, 
however,  half  crazy  and  destitute  of  all  womanly  virtues, 
and  I  was  very  thankful  when  she  left.  Mr.  Roderick 
made  no  effort  to  fill  her  place.  So  I  was  left  alone  for 
days  at  a  time  when  he  was  on  business.  I  had  grown 
a  little  stronger  during  the  winter  and  my  little  babe  had 
improved  also.  She  and  Marie  were  brought  to  see  rne, 
and  I  implored  them  to  bring  Bertha,  but  for  some  reason 
they  would  not. 

Brother  Harry  came  to  see  me  in  June,  but  I  would 
not  tell  him  my  true  condition,  knowing  it  would  add  to 
the  sorrow  at  home.  He  said  that  brother  Charley  was 
very  ill  with  typhoid  pneumonia,  away  from  home  and 
among  strangers.  Father  could  not  leave  mother  to  go 
to  him  and  the  doctor  could  not  allow  her  to  be  told  about 
it.  For  the  first  time  in  many  years  father  wept  over 
the  sad  condition  of  his  family. 

Mr.  Roderick  became  wild  and  savage  as  summer  came 


UNDER   THE    ROD.  105 

on  and  I  would  pass  sleepless  nights  in  the  most  intense 
fear  of  him.  Imagine  my  suffering  as  I  lay  listening  to 
the  unearthly  moans  of  this  being  beside  me,  who  tossed 
restlessly  in  his  slumber.  As  I  thought  of  my  poor  little 
children  (worse  than  orphans)  I  groaned  inwardly. 
Their  mother  was  a  wreck  and  there  was  no  one  to  save 
them  from  the  anger  of  their  inhuman  father.  Their 
mirth  in  the  day  would  jar  upon  me  and  aggravate  my 
painful  headache.  They  waded  in  the  creek,  would  make 
bran-cakes  and  would  strew  the  house  with  wild  flowers; 
often  they  would  cover  my  bed  with  these.  Sometimes 
I  would  tell  them  Bible  stories  that  I  had  learned  in  my 
girlhood,  and  dear  little  Stella,  sitting  on  my  bed,  would 
tenderly  stroke  my  hand.  How  little  she  dreamed,  that, 
though  one  of  my  greatest  comforts,  she  was  one  of  the 
greatest  causes  of  my  anxiety,  for  by  her  thoughtless  and 
fearless  manner  she  might  at  any  time  arouse  the  un- 
reasonable anger  of  her  father.  I  kept  them  close  by 
me,  knowing  he  might  in  his  passion  do  them  an  injury, 
and  I  do  not  believe  that  I  could  have  borne  my  hard  lot 
without  them. 

With  the  intense  heat  of  summer  my  suffering  grew 
worse.     Oh,  why  had  I  been  left  so  desolate? 

Mr.  Hodges's  family  had  been  the  nearest  neighbors  to 
us;  they  were  kind  but  had  gone  now,  and  I  was  de- 
prived of  all  sympathy,  save  that  given  by  Mrs.  Williams, 
a  poor  old  woman  who  was  at  death's  door  and  in  very 
destitute  circumstances. 

My  heart  ached  for  father,  whose  letters  were  so  brief 
and  despondent.  Although  he  tried  to  disguise  mother's 
true  state  of  health,  I  felt  intuitively  that  she  was  nearing 
the    end.      He  had    employed    the  best   physicians  the 


106  ONE  woman's  life. 

country  afforded,  but  all  to  no  avail.  Mother  became  weak 
in  mind  and  body.  Her  hair  turned  white  and  her  form 
grew  emaciated. 

Through  the  long  hours  of  the  night  I  thought  of  my 
dying  mother,  with  no  one  to  care  for  her  but  strangers, 
and  my  father.  Again  I  tried  to  break  the  cruel  fetters 
that  bound  me  to  the  bed.  She  would  die  and  I  would 
not  be  with  her.  She,  my  most  faithful  friend  and  the 
only  one  who  understood  my  miserable  situation.  Drops 
of  cold  perspiration  stood  on  my  brow  and  I  wrung  my 
hands  in  despair.  Without  her  care  I  would  have  died 
in  the  past  winter,  and  now  she  was  leaving  me  desolate. 
The  violent  fits  of  weeping,  which  I  was  unable  to  sup- 
press, were  fast  undermining  my  strength.  I  could  eat 
and  sleep  but  very  little,  but  the  thought  that  my  children 
would  be  left  alone  if  I  were  to  die,  helped  me  to  restrain 
my  grief,  and  through  God's  help  I  succeeded,  and  I 
begged  Mr.  Roderick  to  keep  all  news  of  mother  from 
me,  unless  it  was  good  news. 

One  long  drear}^  night  the  following  lines  formed  them- 
selves in  my  mind  : 

THE   SOLITARY   LAMENT. 

The  terrors  of  nigiht  have  fallen  on  me, 
The  shadows  of  forms  no  longer  I  see. 
Eyes  that  have  ling^ered  on  objects  of  lisht 
Are  now  ever  closed  by  day  and  by  nisht. 
As  time  passes  on  I  shed  bitter  tears, 
Wearily  waiting  these  many  long  years. 
Oftentimes  waking  from  dreaming  to  find 
Nothing  but  gloom,  I  am  helpless  and  blind. 

Of  all  earthly  joys  I  am  nearly  bereft, 
No  pleasure  of  friends,  alone  I  am  left. 


UNDER   THE    ROD.  107 

Kind  hearts  there  are  some,  though  many  alas! 
Send  a  curious  gaze  towards  me,  as  they  pass; 
One  visitor  daily — 'a,  small  ray  of  sun, 
Just  crossing  my  face  it  gHadly  do't/h  run. 
Bringing  me  news  of  the  weather  any!  time. 
And  memories  sweet,  of  my  own  sunny  clime. 

Five  children  of  whiom  three  were  taken  from  home 
For  care;  to  them  mother  love  is  unknown. 
Their  smiles  and  caresses  to  strangers  are  given; 
Alone  in  despair  my  fond  heart  is  riven. 
Oh,  tell  me  kind  angels,  shall  I  ever  recover, 
To  care  for  my  children  and  heart-broken  miother? 
While  sadly  I'm  thinking  of  joys  that  have  past, 
For  days  like  my  childhood,  in  mercy  I  ask. 

How  strange  seems  the  quiet,  how  foreign  to  one 
Who  reveled  m  beauty,  in  pleasure  and  fun. 
As  healthy  and  happy  and  merry  as  May, 
School-books  in  hand  I  would  hasten  away. 
But  listen!    What  noises  are  those  that  I  hear? 
In  the  silence  strange  fancies  awaken  my  fear, 
And  terrible  phantoms  of  lunatics  try 
To  glare  o'er  my  couch  and  stifle  my  cry. 

Welcome,  Oh  death,  do  not  leave  me  alone. 
The  future's  unkind  and  hopes  are  all  flown. 
In  pain  and  in  anguish  my  sorrows  untold; 
Just  twenty  and  six,  yet  in  trouble  grown  old. 
But  God  in  his  mercy  one  bright  hope  has  given, 
A  Savior  to  love  and  rest  in  dear  Heaven, 
There  beautiful  music  and  many  things  fair, 
While  voices  of  loved  ones  with  songs  fill  the  air. 

This  loner  fearful  summer  Mr.  Roderick's  actions  were 
beyond  precedent.  At  times  he  furiously  raved  like  some 
wild  beast,  screaming,  shouting,  weeping  and  swearing, 
and  then  praying  almost  in  the  same  breath.  Beating 
upon  the  table  he  would  utter  the  most  direful  threats 


108  ONE  woman's  life. 

against  the  children.  He  whipped  Stella  several  times 
unmercifully  until  I  cried  out  with  terror.  I  momenta- 
rily expected  to  be  dragged  from  the  bed,  and  to  be  beat- 
en or  stamped  to  death  as  he  raved  past  the  head  of  my 
bed.  During  one  of  these  paroxysms  the  appalling  truth 
flashed  upon  me,  that  I  had  been  living  with  a  maniac,  a 
plausible,  polite,  cunning  maniac  ;  so  cunning  that  he 
could  deceive  the  world,  while  he  crushed  the  life  out  of 
his  victims. 

The  unearthly  moans,  the  fits  of  weeping,  the  pecu- 
liar manner  of  throwing  the  head  backwards  I  recalled  ; 
his  restless,  roving  eyes,  his  voracious  appetite,  and  his 
unnatural  desire  for  sleep;  and  I  shuddered  as  I  thought 
of  them. 

His  touch  now  became  loathsome  to  me,  and  when  I 
would  feel  his  cold,  clammy  hands  on  my  face  it  was  only 
with  difficulty  that  I  could  refrain  from  shuddering.  He 
discovered  the  aversion  I  had  for  him,  and  jealously  up- 
braided me  for  it.  I  determined  to  tell  the  Urst  person 
who  entered  the  house  my  fearful  secret,  for  I  realized 
the  great  danger  should  I  die  and  leave  my  children 
to  his  mercy." 

I  had  prayed  all  summer  that  my  mother  would  be 
spared;  I  had  prayed  for  four  long  years  for  friends  and 
patience,  for  sight  and  strength  to  walk,  but  prayers  now 
died  on  my  lips  and  I  lay  waiting  for  what  might  come 
next,  and  for  God  to  answer  them  if  they  were  in  accord- 
ance with  his  divine  will.  I  believed  they  were. 

While  I  listened  night  after  night  to  the  sad  notes  of 
the  nightingale  and  the  lonely  cries  of  the  whip-poor-will, 
my  thoughts  would  wander  back  through  the  four  years 
i  had  lain  helpless  and  blind,  then  back  to  the  years  when 


UNDER   THE   ROD  101) 

I  was  a  child,  a  maiden,  a  bride,  calling  to  mind  all  the 
joys  and  sorrows  I  had  passed  through  and  bringing  back 
every  face  and  incident  as  if  it  had  been  yesterday. 

The  past  arose  before  me,  a  panorama  of  the  fitful 
scenes  so  strange  and  sad;  all  the  mistakes  which  had 
brought  about  their  fearful  result  and  the  weakness  that 
had  permitted  my  subjection  to  Mr.  Roderick's  will,  the 
bright  prospects  of  my  early  girlhood  that  had  so  lightly 
passed  a\vay.  The  courage  and  will  power  I  possessed 
had  lain  dormant  all  these  years  and  not  until  now  was  it 
about  to  assert  itself.  Though  still  afraid  of  Mr.  Roder- 
ick, I  now  determined  with  God's  help  (for  the  sake  of 
my  children)  that  I  would  exercise  my  own  judgment  and 
act  for  myself  regardless  of  the  advice  or  influence  of  any 
one.  The  child-wife  died,  and  from  her  grave  arose 
a  woman  with  a  will,  and  a  purpose,  to  live  to  overcome, 
and  save  her  children.  Lying  there  alone  night  after  night, 
unable  to  sleep,  in  an  unclean  bed  and  soiled  clothing,  tor- 
tured by  insects,  I  would  wring  my  hands  in  agony,  sigh- 
ing for  the  past  and  despairing  for  the  future,  dreading 
any  sound  that  should  arouse  the  unnatural  sleeper  at  my 
side.  So  terrible  were  my  sufferings  that  it  seemed  I 
could  sweat  drops  of  blood.  The  days  were  spent  in  near- 
ly as  great  misery.  The  flies  and  hornets  stung  me  and 
mud  wasps  would  annoy  me  with  dropping  their  spiders 
and  mud  upon  my  face  and  bed.  While  my  anxiety  for 
my  children  was  torture — maddening  torture — I  could  but 
contrast  my  present  condition  with  the  happy  days  when 
in  my  parents'  home,  and  would  almost  go  wild  with  grief 
and  disappointment.     I  wonder  now  I  did  not  go  mad! 

The    great    mistakes  of    my  life  torturing  me    with 
regrets  and  with  thoughts  of  what  "might  have  been/' 


110  ONE    woman's   life. 

the  faces  of  my  parents,  of  my  brothers  and  of  my  chil- 
dren arose  before  my  mental  vision  as  vivid  as  on  that 
memorable  night  when  I  closed  my  eyes.  The  four  years 
I  had  lain  blind  seemed  like  a  horrible  nightmare  from 
which  I  could  never  awaken.  I  was  weary  of  the  world, 
its  coldness  and  vanity  ;  weary  of  its  friendlessness  and 
deception,  and  I  longed  to  reach  that  shore  where  all 
was  peace  and  love,  where  there  would  be  no  more  pain 
and  sickness  and  sorrow. 

FOR  I  LONG  TO  BE  THERE. 


Dear  Father  in  heaven,  to  Thee  I  would  raise 
A  petition  and  speak  to  thy  bountiful  praise, 
At  Thy  footstool  of  grace,  I  would  offer  my  prayer, 
Take  me  unto  Thyself  for  I  long  to  be  there. 

II 

Dear  Savior  I  plead,  Thou  art  tender  and  kind 
O'erflowing  with  love,  and  for  me  thou  canst  find 
A  safe  resting  place,  that  is  free  from  all  care. 
Draw  me  close  to  Thy  heart,  for  I  long  to  be  there. 

Ill 

Fair  angels  of  light,  who  with  melodies  sweet, 
Make  that  beautiful  home  a  celestial  retreat, 
In  your  happiness  pure,  a  full  part  I  would  share ; 
Let  me  come  to  your  home,  for  I  long  to  be  there. 

IV 

While  our  pleasures  are  few  and  hopes  but  a  name 
And  while  worklliness  reigns  o'er  all  things  the  same, 
Our  joys  are  in  dreams  of  a  bright  Eden  fair, 
Take  me  into  thy  rest,  for  I  long  to  be  there. 

V 

I  am  weary  of  life,  weary  of  its  decay. 
On  the  echoless  shore  full  of  peace  I  would  stray. 
Forgetting  all  soitows,  for  Christ  will  them  bear. 
Oh,  take  me  to  Jesus  for  I  long  to  be  there. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


THE  TRIAL  OF  FAITH. 


"Flow  on,  mysterious  river, 
Flow  on  to  eternity's  sea. 
By  faith  and  a  holy  endeavor, 
The  future  hath  bliss  for  me." 


OTHER,  perhaps  dying,  and  I  alone,  blind 
and  bed-ridden,  with  two  small  children,  in 
the  power  of  one  who  seemed  a  raving  lu- 
natic; would  God  heed  my  long  anguished 
■•^^^1^4  prayers  and  send  relief  ?  While  so  far  from 
friends,  my  heart  grew  sick  with  the  sad,  dreary  days 
of  waiting  that  followed,  and  which  were  filled  with 
unspeakable  horrors  and  dread  for  the  safety  of  my  un- 
conscious children.  My  hair,  which  was  now  long  and 
heavy,  almost  dripped  with  perspiration,  caused  by 
mortal  agony.  Can  my  readers  imagine  a  more  dis- 
tressing situation? 

■"  1  was  even  deprived  of  the  visits  of  my  poor  friend, 
Mrs.  WilHams,  who  was  too  feeble  to  come.  I  remem- 
bered now  what  one  of  Mr.  Roderick's  sisters,  whom  I 
have  not  mentioned,  said  to  mother  shortly  before  she 
was  carried  home.  She  had  strongly  urged  upon  her 
the  necessity  of  going  home,  saying  her  brother  would 
ruin  her  if  she  stayed  with  him,  as  he  had  Edna,  and 
pointing  to  the  bed,  said,  "See  what  he  has  done  to  her. 


112  ONE  woman's  life. 

no  woman  can  live  with  him.  He  came  very  near 
wreaking  his  vengeance  on  me  on  more  than  one  occa- 
sion, but  I  would  not  give  him  the  opportunity  to  remain 
in  my  house."  I  also  remembered  that  his  two  eldest 
sisters,  Rachel  and  Caroline,  had  often  thought  that  he 
would  be  a  lunatic  some  time.  I  knew  that  all  the  family 
were  afraid  to  cross  him.  They  told  that  he  had  once 
chased  his  brother  WiUiam  with  an  axe,  and  that  he  was 
compelled  to  climb  a  tree  to  save  himself. 

I  had  prayed  for  friends,  and  resolved  to  make  my  case 
known  to  the  first  one  that  entered  the  house.  Almost 
ten  years  I  had  kept  this  fearful  secret  and  now  for  my 
children's  sake  it  must  be  done.  For  myself,  I  wanted  to 
die.  One  day,  as  if  in  answer  to  this  prayer,  a  young 
lady,  formerly  from  Massachusetts,  called  at  our  house. 
Grasping  at  the  last  straw,  I  told  her  my  story,  and 
begged  her  to  write  a  letter  for  me  to  my  brothers,  which 
she  immediately  did,  sitting  by  my  bed,  and  writing  at 
my  dictation.  She  carried  the  letter  to  Marion,  the 
nearest  town,  and  dropped  it  into  the  post-office.  The 
letter  was  addressed  to  brother  Bradley,  apd  it  so  hap- 
pened that  he  was  on  his  way  to  see  me  and  chanced  to 
be  in  Marion  before  the  letter  left  the  office.  It  was 
handed  him,  and,  unable  to  read  it  on  account  of  his 
impaired  sight,  he  took  it  to  a  Mrs.  Simpson,  whom  he 
knew  had  professed  great  sympathy  for  me.  She  read 
it  to  him,  and  promised  not  to  reveal  its  contents. 

The  day  the  letter  was  mailed  I  was  overjoyed  by  his 
unexpected  arrival.  I  tried  to  tell  him  my  suspicions  in 
regard  to  Mr,  Roderick's  insanity;  he  said  he  would  go 
to  Marion,  consult  a  lawyer,  and  see  what  could  be  done. 
After  he  left,  Mr.  Roderick  went  to  the  mill  and  returned 


THE    TRIAL   OF    FAITH.  113 

extremely  agitated.  Some  one  had  told  him  the  contents 
of  that  letter.  I  trembled  violently,  knowing  well  what 
a  storm  was  to  follow.  Heavenly  Father,  how  long  will 
this  constant  struggle  last,  this  weary,  weary  strife? 
How  could  any  one  be  so  cruel  as  to  inform  him  of  the 
letter  I  had  written? 

I  waited  in  utter  desolation,  carried  away  by  intensity  ,o£ 
feeling.  Mr.  Roderick  asked  was  it  possible  that  I  thought 
of  leaving  him .  He  insisted  upon  my  giving  him  my  rea- 
sons, and  his  voice  sounded  hoarse  and  strange.  I  scarcely 
knew  what  excuse  to  make,  and  simply  said  I  was  un- 
happy. "Do  you  love  me?"  he  cried.  I  did  not  answer 
him,  but  when  he  insisted  I  replied  that  I  did  not,  that 
he  had  treated  me  so  unkindly  I  could  not  love  him.  He 
walked  the  house  groaning  and  talking  wildly,  his  voice 
sounding  more  like  the  wail  of  a  lost  soul  than  anything  hu- 
man. Finally  he  promised  that  if  I  would  not  leave  him 
he  would  move  to  Marion  aud  treat  me  kindly, but  said  that 
if  I  left  him  I  should  not  have  any  of  the  children.  When 
brother  returned,  he  told  me  that  unless  Mr.  Roderick 
was  willing,  I  could  not  take  the  children,  and  asked  if  I 
was  willing  to  leave  them.  "No,"  I  replied  decidedly^ 
"my  anxiety  is  not  for  myself,  but  solely  on  their  account. 
I  will  accept  Mr.  Roderick's  proposal,  as  he  has  offered 
to  take  me  to  Marion,  and  promised  to  treat  me  with 
more  consideration."  My  brother  remained  with  us  a 
few  days  and  then  returned  home,  as  mother  was  danger- 
ously ill.  Mr.  Roderick's  mood  changed,  and  he  became 
excessively  kind,  but  I  still  shrank  from  him  in  fear  and 
dread.  His  terms  of  endearment  had  become  so  re- 
pulsive, I  shuddered  at  his  touch  as  from  some   reptile. 

He  could  get  no  one  to  assist  him,  and  had  to  make 
8 


114  ONE  woman's  life. 

all  the  necessary  preparations  himself  for  our  move  to 
Marion.  Our  clothing  was  badl}'  soiled  and  worn,  and  I 
felt  reluctant  to  go  without  suitable  preparation,  but 
feeling  it  impossible  to  exist  much  longer  in  the  manner 
we  were  living,  and  longing  to  be  near  sympathizing 
friends,  who,  perhaps,  could  aid  me,  should  anything 
happen,  and  also  feehng  that  the  influence  of  the  Church 
and  Christian  people  would  serve  as  a  shield  against 
further  outbreaks,  I  decided  to  go.  God  had  heard 
our  prayers,  and  our  prospects  now  took  a  more  favor- 
able turn. 

Letters  from  home  brought  the  glad  news  that,  con- 
trary to  the  expectations  of  ever}"  one,  mother's  health 
was  now  improving. 

Brothers  Edgar  and  Charlie  came  to  see  us  and  spent  a 
few  days.  The  neighbors  dropped  in,  seeming  very  kind 
and  svmpathetic.  Mrs.  WilHams  also  informed  me  that 
Marion  people  sympathized  with  me,  and  among  them  I 
would  find  friends.  I  counted  the  hours  that  would  in- 
tervene before  I  would  leave  my  sad  and  lonely  home* 
filled  with  so  many  bitter  recollections. 

My  health  improved  daily  under  the  bright  rays  of  a 
new-born  hope  and  kind  treatment.  Mr.  Roderick's 
sister  Harriet  came  to  see  us  and  loudly  upraided  her 
brother  for  humoring  a  wife  that  did  not  love  him  and 
who  could  help  herself  if  she  would.  Turning  to  me  she 
said,  "Now  Edna,  if  you  want  to  know  the  truth,  I  am 
the  one  to  tell  it.  It  is  the  opinion  of  all  the  people  in  the 
country  that  you  can  help  yourself  if  you  will."  "  Har- 
riet," I  replied,  *'intelHgent  people  do  not  think  so,  and  I 
care  not  for  the  opinion  of  those  that  are  not.  Your  un- 
kind talk  has  caused  me  many  tears,  but  in  the  future  it  will 


"0'1 


ii"if!!ll! 


mil 


^m-'''^ 


!!'!( 


m%M 


ill"' 


Silk, 


\m 


Blind  and  helpless  rang  through  my  head,  keeping  time  with  the 
ringing  of  the  distant  church-bells. 


THE   TRIAL   OF    FAITH.  117 

Slave  no  effect.  I  have  determined  from  this  time  forward 
to  act  upon  my  own  judgment,  regardless  of  the  opinions 
•of  others."  She  was  so  astonished  at  my  daring  to  speak 
so  boldl}''  that  she  made  no  answer,  and  did  not  speak 
again  until  Mr.  Roderick  entered  the  house,  when  they 
•engaged  in  a  loud  and  fierce  quarrel  about  our  moving  to 
Marion,  which  ended  by  her  leaving  the  house  with 
threats,  and  in  tears. 

True  to  his  word,  Mr.  Roderick  proceeded  with  his 
preparations,  and  in  a  few  weeks  said  he  was  ready- 
Yielding  to  my  earnest  request,  that  I  should  not  be 
carried  in  any  vehicle,  I  was  placed  on  a  stretcher  and 
conveyed  by  several  of  the  neighboring  men  to  the 
railroad,  a  distance  of  two  miles.  The  stretcher  was 
placed  on  a  hand-car  and  rolled  to  Marion,  some  four  or 
iive  miles.  Marion  is  a  small  town,  and  the  county  site 
•of  McDowell.  It  is  situated  on  the  Western  North 
Carolina  road,  near  the  Blue  Ridge  mountains,  its  chief 
beautv  being  the  mountains  on  either  side  and  its  wild 
forest  scenery.  Many  worthy  people  have  settled  there 
in  the  last  few  years  and  its  business  prospect  which  is 
•chiefly  merchandising,  has  become  more  flourishing. 

I  was  moved  on  the  Sabbath,  as  those  who  had  charge 
of  the  hand-car  would  not  allow  it  to  be  moved  in  the 
week,  fearing  accidents.  I  lay  motionless  on  the  dark, 
green-curtained  stretcher  borne  by  eight  men,  the  tramp, 
tramp  of  their  stead}^  gait  and  the  new  and  strange 
sounds  mingled  with  their  voices,  borne  in  vague  and 
solemn  tones  upon  my  ears. 

Finally  my  couch  was  placed  upon  the  hand-car  and  it 
slowly  rolled  down  the  railroad,  while  the  words  '^In  the 
■world,  but   not  of  the  world,"  ''Blind  and   helpless,  blind 


118  ONE  woman's  life; 

and  helpless,"  rang  through  my  head,  keeping  time  witlv 
the  ringing  of  the  distant  church  bells. 

Sad  at  leaving  my  three  little  children  behind,  little- 
ones  mine  eyes  had  never  beheld  !  Would  I  ever  see 
them  ?  Oh!  how  I  longed  for  that  sight.  Totally  blind^ 
too  weak  to  even  turn  myself  or  move  my  limbs,  and 
racked  with  pain  at  every  jolt  in  moving  me.  What  had 
the  future  in  store  for  me  and  mine  !  ^yould  God  hear 
my  many  long  prayers  ?  One  earnest  prayer  had  been 
answered — that  my  children  were  not  deformed  nor  dis- 
eased in  mind  or  body — and  this  had  encouraged  me  to 
pray  more  truly  and  lovingly.  God  knows  best,  and  my 
faith  was  strengthened  to  trust  him  implicitly  for  the 
future.  He  had  blessed  me  in  my  children,  had  spared 
me  the  heavy  cross  that  might  have  been  laid  there.  My 
thoughts  were  very,  very  sad  as  I  entered  the  town  where- 
I  had  spent  so  many  happy  days  during  my  girlhood. 
The  church  bells  were  ringing,  the  chimes  of  which' 
were  sweet  and' mournful,  carrying  me  back  to  the  days 
when  I  had  mingled  with  the  church  throng  and  lifted  my 
voice  with  theirs  in  anthems  of  praise.  Stella  and  Earnests 
and  Eliza,  our  new  cook,  and  some  of  the  neighbors  were- 
waiting  to  receive  us,  and  I  felt  strangely  happy  in  the 
knowlege  of  the  fact  that  I  would  not  be  left  alone  any 
more  and  that  I  would  be  near  sympathetic  friends.  The 
neighbors  who  called  wondered  how  one  who  was  blind 
and  helpless  could  smile  and  appear  so  happy.  Oh!  they 
little  knew  what  scenes  I  had  passed  through  and  what 
reasons  I  now  had  to  be  almost  happy,  even  though  I 
could  not  see  nor  walk. 


THE   TRIAL    OF   FAITH.  119 

"  And  people  say  that  I  am  blind 
And  pity  me,  although  I  find 
A  world  of  beauty  in  my  mind, 
A  never  ceasing  store. 

"  Of  the  dear  Savior,  meek  and  kind, 
And  how  he  healed  the  lame  and  blind, 
Am  I  not  healed  ?  for  in  my  mind 
His  blessed  form  I  see. 

"The  beauty  of  all  outward  sight, 
The  wondrous  shows  of  day  and  night, 
All  love,  all  faith,  all  pure  delight, 
Are  strong  in  heart  and  mind." 

My  heart  was  now  full  of  gratitude  and  praise.  My 
visitors,  both  old  and  new,  were  pleasant,  congenial  and 
sympathetic.  Mr.  Roderick  was  cheerful  and  more 
natural,  and  I  carefully  guarded  every  word  that  I  spoke, 
lest  I  should  reveal  his  past  cruelty,  being  aware  that 
Madam  Rumor  had,  ere  this,  painted  my  unhappy  life  to 
the  citizens  of  Mai'ion.  Stella  and  Earnest  attended  Sab- 
bath-school and  also  day  school,  taught  by  Prof.  Chriton 
and  wife,  who  soon  became  interested  friends  of  mine. 
All  the  clerg3'men  of  the  town  called  often,  and  prayed 
by  my  bedside.  Prayers  were  offered  in  the  churches 
that  I  might  be  restored  to  health  and  sin-ht.  Manv  del- 
icacies  were  sent  to  me  by  the  ladies  of  the  neighbor- 
hood. Although  I  was  a  great  sufferer,  I  almost  felt  as 
if  I  were  in  heaven  when  comparing  the  present  with  the 
past,  and  at  times  during  m}'-  lonely  hours,  my  room 
seemed  filled  with  angels.  I  still  heard  favorable  reports 
from  home.  Brother  CharHe  and  some  of  our  old  Fort 
friends  made  us  visits.  Among  my  acquaintances  I 
found  a  few  true  and  faithful  friends,  one  of  whom  (the 
wife  of  Col.  Yonge)  was  one  of  those  rare  characters  of 


120  ONE  woman's  life. 

whom  we  read,  but  seldom  meet.  She  was  a  gentle, 
dignified,  true  Christian  woman,  mild,  yet  firm,  and  al- 
ways calm  and  cheerful.  Her  kind  words  strengthened 
me  in  my  weakness,  her  conversation  being  chiefly  of 
heaven  and  heavenly  desires  and  hopes.  A  feeling  of 
joy  filled  every  fiber  of  my  heart  when  I  heard  her 
soft  musical  voice  at  my  door.  Her  three  daughters 
and  many  others  called,  bringing  kind  messages  and 
choice  dishes  to  tempt  my  appetite,  but  the  knowledge 
that  I  was  not  friendless  and  entirely  forsaken,  as  I  had  be- 
fore imagined  myself,  gave  me  more  real  satisfaction 
than  the  dainties  they  brought.  Another  prayer  an- 
swered, that  for  friends,  and  has  been  continually  since 
that  time,  for  God  has  blessed  me  with  friends  wherever 
I  went.  I  also  found  friends  in  Mrs.  Chriton  and  Miss 
Lina  Cleveland  (one  v/ho  could  thoroughly  sympathize 
with  the  afflicted,  having  herself  been  an  invahd  for  many 
years).  Mrs.  Chriton  was  an  earnest,  energetic  lady,  with 
a  warm,  generous  heart,  possessing  cultivated  tastes;  and 
the  hours  she  passed  by  my  bedside,  reading  extracts 
from  different  authors,  or  conversing  with  her  sweet, 
rich  voice,  caused  the  time  to  pass  pleasantly.  She  af- 
terward proved  a  zealous,  sacrificing  friend.  The  socie- 
ty of  those  dear  ones,  and  the  visits  of  the  faithful  clergy- 
men caused  my  countenance  to  be  no  longer  devoid  of 
smiles.  The  hours  flew  by  on  "gilded  wings"  seem- 
ing almost  a  foretaste  of  heaven.  Eliza,  our  servant, 
took  very  good  care  of  me,  but  proved  to  be  very  high- 
tempered  and  quarrelsome,  often  slamming  the  doors  and 
loudly  scolding ;  but  Mr.  Roderick  was  now  so  mild  and 
gentle  that  I  tried  to  forget  that  he  had  ever  been  other- 
wise, and  those  who  came   in  saw   nothing  amiss  in  our 


THE    TRIAL    OF   FAITH.  121 

daily  intercourse.  At  this  time  I  heard  many  accounts 
of  wonderful  "faith  cures"  in  other  States,  and  I  now 
prayed  earnestly  for  more  faith,  feehng  sure  that  if  God 
would  heal  others  he  would  not  forget  me.  One  day  I 
was  delighted  to  hear  that  a  clergyman  was  in  town  who 
strongly  advocated  '''faith  cures."  I  sent  for  him  imme- 
diately, and  my  friend  Mrs.  Yonge  greatly  urged  me  to 
trust  my  physical  infirmities  to  God's  care.  She  herself 
was  an  invalid,  having  suffered  fifteen  years  with  dys- 
pepsia, and  having  had  to  live  all  that  time  on  plain 
wheaten  bread  and  tea.  We  were  both  anointed,  and 
prayers  of  faith  were  offered  for  us  by  Mr.  Barnum. 
This  was  a  new  doctrine  in  the  neighborhood,  and  Mrs. 
Yonge,  Mr.  Barnum  and  m3^self  were  subjected  to  many 
criticisms.  Mr.  Barnum  left  to  work  in  other  fields. 
The  prayers  I  had  offered  for  many  years  for  sight  and 
strength  now  became  more  fervent.  I  was  able  to  bear 
the  light  of  the  room  with  only  a  thin  covering  over  my 
eyes  which  were  still  closed,  and  I  could  move  my  head 
and  turn  myself  in  bed,  but  still  suffered  severe  pain  in 
my  eyes  and  spine,  with  my  drawn,  aching  limbs,  and 
long  confinement,  while  the  noise  in  my  head  and 
dancing  lights  had  never  ceased.  My  emaciated  limbs 
and  thin  colorless  hands  and  face  often  elicited  remarks 
of  pity.  Afcer  a  long  night  spent  in  prayer  for  some 
sign  to  be  given  by  which  I  might  know  that  my  prayers 
were  to  be  answered,  my  friend,  Miss  Lina  Cleveland, 
called,  bringing  a  beautiful  poem  headed  with  this  text: 
"And  I  will  bring  the  blind  by  a  way  that  they  knew  not, 
I  will  lead  them  in  paths  they  have  not  known,  I  will 
make  darkness   light   before  them   and   crooked   things 


122  ONE  woman's  life. 

straight.      These  things  will  I  do  unto  them  and  not  for- 
sake them,"  Isaiah  42:16. 

These  words  gave  me  fresh  courage  and  hope,  for  I 
took  them  to  be  a  direct  answer  to  the  prayer  the  pre- 
vious night.  One  day  I  remarked  to  Rev.  Edward  Pell, 
a  kind  Methodist  clergyman  now  of  much  prominence,, 
that  some  of  my  prayers  were  being  answered,  save  that 
one  I  most  earnestly  desired,  which  was  to  see  and  walk. 
He  said: 

"  It  would  seem  then,  that  it  is  not  His  will;  you  ought 
to  be  reconciled." 

"I  cannot,"  I  replied,  "my  children  are  suffering  for 
my  care  and  I  am  so  tired  of  lying  here  for  days,  months 
and  years,  in  pain  and  distress,  and  being  a  burden  to  my 
friends." 

"Perhaps  that  is  your  mission,"  he  replied,  "your 
patient  suffering  being  an  example  to  the  restless,  stir- 
ring world." 

But  I  could  not  feel  that  God  intended  me  to  always 
lead  such  a  life  and  now  believed  that  some  time  He 
would  enable  me  to  see  and  walk.  Mr.  Pell  spent  many 
hours  with  me,  and  his  conversation  and  prayers  were  a 
source  of  great  comfort.  Mr.  Roderick  and  I  had  our 
letters  removed  from  the  church  to  which  we  had  be- 
longed and  became  members  of  a  church  at  Marion,  but 
the  peace  and  rest  that  I  had  enjoyed  for  three  months 
were  doomed  to  be  destro3'ed. 

Our  cook  became  so  quarrelsome  and  abusive  to  the 
children  that  Mr,  Roderick  discharged  her.  An  igno- 
rant, untidy,  though  kind  girl,  was  employed  in  her  place. 
Mr.  Roderick  again  became  disagreeable  and  tyrannical 
and  later  in  the  spring  grew  so  unmanageable  and  violent 


THE    TRIAL   OF   FAITH.  123 

that  all  the  old  feelings  of  horror  and  despair  that  I  had 
endured  so  long  were  once  more  aroused. 

One  morning,  after  a  scene,  in  which  he  raved 
fearfully,  I  became  completely  exhausted  and  lost  my  self- 
possession  and  screamed  in  despair  and  fell  into  convul- 
sions. After  regaining  my  worn  strength  I  sent  the 
frightened  children  after  Mrs.  Yonge.  Feeling  that  she 
was  a  true  "child  of  God,"  I  determined  to  take  her  into 
my  confidence  and  ask  her  advice.  I  did  not  know  what 
course  to  pursue.  Mr.  Roderick  had  broken  his  promise, 
my  strength  was  rapidly  leaving  me,  and  I  felt  unable  to 
longer  bear  those  frightful  scenes,  and  1  also  realized  that 
my  physician  had  spoken  the  truth  when  he  told  mother, 
sometime  before,  that  I  would  never' regain  my  health 
while  I  lived  with  Mr.  Roderick.  '' Something  heavier 
than  the  stroke  of  the  fist — unkind  words" — was  rob- 
bing me  of  life  and  health.  I  believed  him  at  times  in- 
sane, but  knew  that  others  could  not  penetrate  the  mask 
he  wore.  Should  I  leave  him  he  would  not  allow  me 
the  children,  without  great  trouble,  and  while  there  lasted 
the  faintest  hope  of  life,  to  leave  them  seemed  indeed 
heartrending.  M}^  parents  and  brothers,  owing  to  so 
much  sickness,  trouble  and  misfortune,  were  unable  to 
assist  me  much  and  I  was  too  feeble  to  be  carried  over 
the  long  mountain  road  to  their  home. 

When  Mrs.  Yonge  came  my  extreme  agitation  pre- 
vented me  from  telling  her  my  true  condition,  save  in 
broken  accents.  She  was  greatly  surprised,  as  well  as 
grieved,  to  learn  that  Mr.  Roderick  was  not  all  that  he 
professed  to  be.  She  advised  me  to  trust  my  children  to 
God  and  leave  him,  saying  that  I  could  never  recover 
under  such  unhappy  circumstances,  and  that  in  my  pies- 


12  i  oxE  woman's  life. 

ent  condilion  I  could  never  be  any  benefit  to  mv  children. 
I  could  not  make  up  my  mind  to  this  and  I  got  Mrs. 
Chriton  to  write  letters  home,  stating  the  true  condition 
of  affairs  and  telling  them  to  assist  me  in  some  way  im- 
mediately or  I  would  die. 

Brother  Edgar,  who  lived  in  Charlotte,  replied  that  if 
I  would  leave  Mr.  Roderick  he  would  take  care  of  me. 
Father  could  not  come  to  see  me  but  said  that  brother 
Bradley  would  come  as  soon  as  possible. 

I  almost  censured  my  friends  and  thought  them  cruel 
to  believe  that  I  could  leave  my  children  with  a  man  I 
knew  to  be  insane.  My  nerves  were  now  so  shattered 
that  I  could  bear  no  excitement  and  I  la}'  almost  uncon- 
scious and  nearly  lifeless,  and  as  the  days  passed  I  felt 
that  I  was  sinking  rapidly,  and  knew  that  if  compelled  to 
endure  that  kind  of  life  much  longer  I  would  certainly 
die  soon  and  mv  children  be  left  motherless.  Days  and 
nights  were  spent  in  prayer,  asking  God  to  show  me  the 
riofht  wav.  For  mvself  alone  my  condition  would  have 
remained  unchanged.  I  could  have  j-ielded  to  death 
without  a  struggle,  but  for  my  children's  sake  I  felt  the 
necessity  of  sacrificing  my  own  feelings  in  making  a 
strong  effort  to  live.  I  now  asked  myself,  "would  it  not 
be  better  to  leave  them  temporarily  than  for  eternity?" 
In  the  one  case  there  was  a  probabilit}*  of  my  being  re- 
stored to  them,  in  the  other  I  was  leaving  them  to  the 
uncertain  fate  of  an  unkind  father  and  his  sister,  with 
few,  if  any  friends  to  sympathize  \Nith  them  or  under- 
stand their  wants.  All  hopes  of  having  my  three  little 
girls  brought  home  were  entirely  destroyed;  they  were 
not  even  brought  to  see  me.  My  heart  grew  sick  when 
I  thought  of  those  helpless  little  ones  being  subjected  to 


THE   TRIAL    OF    FAITH.  125 

coarse,  rough  treatment  and  teaching,  perhaps  cruelty, 
and  I  groaned  in  anguish  of  soul  at  the  cruel  fetters  that 
prevented  me  from  shielding  them. 

One  morning,  after  another  of  those  fearful  scenes  I 
have  described,  I  was  again  thrown  into  violent  convul- 
sions from  another  of  Mr.  Roderick's  raving  fits.  He  en- 
tered my  room  in  a  storm  of  passion,  seized  my  wasted 
body  in  his  arms  and  threw  me  to  the  other  side  of  the 
bed.  Grinding  his  teeth  and  moaning  he  dropped  upon 
the  children's  couch,  and  swore  and  raved  in  his  wild 
rage.  Rising  he  slammed  the  doors  and  hissed  curses 
through  his  clenched  teeth.  The  thought  that  we  were  in 
the  power  of  a  raving  maniac  threw  me  into  violent  con- 
vulsions. The  pitiful,  frightened  cries  of  the  children 
added  to  my  horror,  and  I  screamed  in  frantic  woe. 

The  neighbors  heard  the  screams  but  did  not  venture  in 
until  after  Mr.  Roderick  had  left  the  house.  My  body  was 
almost  paralyzed,  with  blue  places  around  my  mouth  and 
eyes,  and  I  was  scarcely  able  to  speak.  The  convulsions 
left  me  so  weak  and  exhausted  that  I  felt  that  if  I 
would  save  my  life  I  must  leave  that  very  day.  I  now 
understood  that  all  the  threats  he  had  made  against  my 
people,  to  take  their  lives,  etc.,  were  vain.  The  heavy 
veil  was  lifted  from  my  eyes  and  I  saw  the  truth  as  it  really 
was.  I  lost  my  fear  of  all  his  threats  against  them,  still 
I  knew  that  my  own  hfe  was  always  in  danger. 

Again  I  sent  for  Mrs.  Yonge  and  Mrs.  Chriton  and 
told  them  I  would  surely  die  if  left  in  Mr.  Roderick's 
power  any  longer.  Stella  and  Earnest  were  strong  and 
robust  and  might  escape  their  father's  wrath  until  I  could 
return,  and  then  by  the  aid  of  law  and  health  I  could  take 
them  and  the  three  little  ones  from  him. 


126  ONE  woman's  life. 

While  Mrs.  Yonge  and  Mrs.  Chriton  were  sitting  by 
my  bedside,  discussing  the  best  plan  to  pursue,  brother 
Bradley  entered.  A  kind  old  lady  afterward  said  that  she 
knew  God  was  on  my  side  by  my  brother  coming  in  just 
at  that  time. 

He  was  extremely  distressed  at  the  turn  affairs  had 
taken.  Not  being  strong  he  was  greatly  fatigued  by  his 
tiresome  journey.  On  consulting  some  lawyers  he  found 
that  no  person  could  take  me  into  their  home  without 
the  protection  of  the  law,  so  I  entered  a  suit  for  divorce. 
Bradley  made  all  the  necessary  preparations,  and  I  was 
carried  on  a  stretcher  to  a  hotel  during  Mr.  Roderick's 
absence.  f 

It  would  be  impossible  to  describe  my  distress  in 
leaving  Stella  and  Earnest,  thinking  that  doubtless  -I 
would  never  meet  them  again.  It  was  a  thought  that 
awakened  many  sad  and  bitter  reflections,  which  only  my 
strong  faith  in  God,  that  he  would  bless  my  efforts,  enabled 
me  to  endure.  The  public  was  highly  excited  over  the 
affair,  and  I  was  both  pained  and  mortified  by  the  unkind 
remarks  which  came  to  my  ears,  for,  as  I  had  anticipated, 
many  upheld  Mr.  Roderick,  and  many  said  they  believed 
I  could  see  and  walk,  while  my  friends  were  very  indig- 
nant, and  many  said  that  hanging  was  too  good  for  him, 
and  in  some  States  he  would  be  hung.  I  could  not  convince 
them  that  he  was  insane,  and  I  was  not  willing  that  he 
should  be  hung.  Others  wondered  how  I  could  appear 
«o  cheerful  if  Mr.  Roderick  had  treated  me  so  unkindly. 
Some  re-echoed  the  sentiment  of  his  people,  and  said 
that  I  had  some  one  else  in  view  whom  I  loved  better 
than  my  husband.  Many  believed  Mr.  Roderick's  pitiful 
story,  "that  he  had  never  spoken  a  cross  word  to  me  and 


THE    TRIAL   OF    FAITH.  127 

liovv  much  he  had  loved  (?)  and  sacrificed  for  me."  He 
called  to  see  me  once  and  appeared  wild  and  excited,  while 
"his  language  was  incoherent  and  disconnected.  My 
brother,  Mrs.  Yonge  and  Mrs.  Chriton,  who  were  in  the 
room,  said  after  his  departure  that  he  certainly  acted  like 
•an  insane  man,  and  were  inclined  to  believe,  with  me, 
that  he  was. 

Some  who  had  visited  me  discontinued  their  visits,  and  I 
was  left  alone  in  my  room  much  of  my  time.  Bradley  went 
to  Asheville  to  attend  to  some  important  business,  and  I 
could  not  leave  for  Charlotte  until  his  return.  Mrs. 
Yonsfe  and  Mrs.  Chriton,  and  a  few  other  faithful  friends, 
"angels  of  mercy,"  sent  by  God  to  help  me  bear  my 
sorrows,  did  all  in  their  power  to  alleviate  my  distress; 
but  the  one  thought  that  Stella  and  Earnest  were  left  alone, 
^nd  in  the  hands  of  a  mad  man,  destroyed  my  sleep  and 
rest.  They  were  running  at  large  in  the  street  by  day, 
with  no  one  to  look  after  them.  Mr.  Roderick  did  not 
prevent  them  from  coming  to  see  me  as  I  feared  he  would, 
but  the  landlord  of  the  hotel  did  not  like  to  have  them 
running  up  and  down  the  stairs  so  much,  so  I  was  often 
compelled  to  have  them  sent  into  the  street  before  they 
w-ere  taken  away  by  Rachel,  who  came  for  them.  I  im- 
proved the  opportunity  and  gave  them  my  farewell 
charges  in  regard  to  their  future  life  and  the  welfare  of 
their  little  sisters,  implored  them  to  be  kind  to  them,  teach 
them  their  prayers,  and  take  my  place  as  much  as 
possible.  Rachel  was  present  when  they  bade  me  good- 
bye, and  I  successfully  hid  from  her  all  outward  signs  of 
my  intense  emotions,  even  smiling  as  I  felt  the  little  faces 
pressed  against  ray  cold  cheek.  She  was  so  cruel 
-that  I  could  not  endure  to  have  her  scoff  at  my  suffering. 


128  ONE  woman's  life. 

My  old  friend,  Ada,  who  was  married  and  living  at  Old 
Fort,  came,  bringing  the  comfort  of  her  presence  and 
many  messages  from  sympathizing  friends.  I  could  not 
but  draw  a  sad  comparison  between  us,  starting  in  life  with 
such  different  prospects.  Married  about  the  same  time, 
I,  to  what  every  one  thought  an  exemplary  Christian,  but 
in  truth  a  hypocrite;  she  to  a  man  "of  the  world,"  but 
who  was  at  heart,  honest  and  sincere,  now  she  comes 
to  me  so  happy  and  youthful  looking,  with  her  lovely 
children,  enjoying  every  comfort  of  life,  while  I  He,  a 
perfect  wreck  of  my  former  happy,  healthy  state.  The 
thought,  why  should  I  have  been  chosen  for  such  a  fate, 
kept  wailing  through  my  heart  in  tortuous  perplexity. 
Oh,  what  mystery!  I  could  not  fathom  ii!  Yet  I  knew 
without  the  sustaining  hand  of  God,  I  could  not  have 
passed  through  these  fiery  trials.  Some  truth,  some  great 
power  must  surely  be  proven  to  the  world,  by  my  life  of 
strange  suffering  and  woe.  I  felt  very  sad  at  the  thought 
that  I  must  leave  without  seeing  my  father  and  mother. 
Mother's  illness  had  been  much  more  serious  than  I  had 
ever  known,  they  had  kept  the  knowledge  partially  hid. 
Her  mind  had  been  nearly  wrecked,  and  my  father  had 
never  left  her.  Dr.  Gaylor,  one  of  Marion's  kindest  and 
best  physicians,  pronounced  my  illness  serious,  and 
advised  me  to  go  to  some  Northern  hospital,  where  I 
might  be  much  benefited;  but  he  gave  very  little  encour- 
agement of  a  permanent  cure.  However,  I  was  not  dis- 
couraged, and  I  felt  that  all  things  were  possible  with  God. 
I  had  been  at  the  hotel  four  weeks  when  my  brother  re- 
turned to  take  me  to  Charlotte.  The  day  of  our  departure, 
I  was  carried  to  the  depot  and  placed  in  a  baggage  car, 
as  there  was  no  room  for  my  stretcher  in  the  other  cars, 


THE   TRIAL   OF   FAITH.  129 

•the  train  having  no  sleeping  car  attached.  A  green  cloth 
was  placed  over  the  stretcher  to  protect  my  eyes  from  the 
light,  and  I  almost  felt  as  if  I  was  being  carried  in  a  coffin, 
shutout  of  the  world.  "In  the  world,  but  not  of  the 
world,"  were  again  my  thoughts.  My  kind  friends  ac- 
companied me  to  the  depot,  also  their  husbands  and  my 
physician,  who  arranged  everything  in  their  power  for  my 
comfort,  and  with  floral  offerings  and  kindest  wishes,  bade 
me  adieu. 

The  hearse-like  procession  was  witnessed  by  but  few 
of  my  lady  friends.  All  had  retreated  to  their  homes  too 
sad  to  watch  what  they  thought  my  last  journey  in  this 
world.  None  thought  I  could  live  to  arrive  at  my  desti- 
nation, and  did  not  hke  to  see  the  sad  sight,  the  darkened 
couch,  with  one  thin  hand  out  from  the  cover,  clasping 
some  flowers  some  one  had  given  me,  a  perfect  wreck 
•and  shadow  of  my  former  self. 

The  bells  rang,  the  engine  whistled,  and  with  a  jarring, 
jerking  sensation,  I  felt  myself  being  carried  through  space, 
leaving  friends  and  children  behind,  whose  faces  I  had 
never  seen.  1  suffered  very  much  from  heat,  light  and 
smoke,  and  the  jarring  of  the  injured  portion  of  my  spine 
and  inflamed  eyes.  Bradley  seldom  left  my  side  until  we 
reached  Salisbury,  about  dusk,  when  he  left  me  a  few 
minutes  to  order  refreshments.  We  were  both  very 
lonely  and  sad,  feeling  weary  and  desolate  in  the  cheer- 
less room  in  which  we  waited  for  the  coming  train. 
Some  ladies  and  gentlemen,  entering  later,  expressed 
regret  at  my  helplessness.  The  ladies  gently  pressed 
my  hand  and  smoothed  my  hair,  lifting  the  long  plaits 
that  fell  over  the  stretcher,  speaking  admiringly  of  its 
9 


130  ONE  woman's  life, 

length  and  beauty.     Surely  God  was  with  me  everywhere,. 
His  angels  hovering  near. 

The  cars  came  rushing  in  and  I  was  placed  in  one.  We 
arrived  in  Charlotte  about  midnight,  and  I  felt  the  warm 
hearty  kiss  of  Brother  Edgar  on  my  cheek,  who  had 
been  notified  by  telegram  of  our  coming.  Several  men 
were  with  him,  who  carried  me  through  the  dark  and 
silent  streets  at  midnight  to  his  home.  I  listened  to  the 
slow  tramp  of  men  and  horses  and  wondered  dreamily 
what  would  happen  next  in  my  eventful  life.  I  kept  re- 
peating, "In  the  world,  but  not  of  the  world."  Why 
was  I  born  to  such  a  fate!  O, God,  pity  me.  I  was  aroused' 
by  the  voice  of  dear  Alice,  which  sounded  strangely 
low  and  subdued.  Was  she  sorry  I  had  come?  I  asked: 
myself.  Why  did  she  appear  so  quiet  and  strange  ?  I 
learned  afterwards  that  she  was  so  agitated  at  the  sight 
of  my  stretcher,  looking  so  much  like  a  coffin  entering 
her  door  at  midnight,  that  she  could  scarcely  speak. 
After  two  weeks  of  rest,  I  was  informed  that  Mr.  Roderick 
had  left  the  country  and  taken  the  children,  and  that  no 
one  knew  where  they  were.  It  was  reported  that  he  had 
taken  them  to  Texas.  At  the  same  time  I  heard  that 
the  physician  who  had  been  employed  by  Brother  Edgar 
to  treat  my  case,  had  pronounced  it  a  hopeless  one,  saying 
that  I  would  never  walk,  as  he  thought  the  portions  of 
vertebras  which  had  been  injured  by  the  rubbing  and  the 
long  rough  journey  over  the  mountains,  had  been  dis- 
located. Two  fearful  blows  at  one  stroke!  It  would  be 
impossible  to  describe  the  horror  and  despair  that  I  now 
endured. 

Thus  all  my  recent  hopes   were   suddenly  destroyed. 
The  livid,  distorted  face  of  Mr.  Roderick,  as  I  had  seen 


THE   TRIAL   OF    FAITH.  131 

it  in  bygone  years,  arose  before  my  mental  vision  so 
magnified  that  I  could  not  repress  cries  of  terror.  I  slept 
but  little,  my  dreams  being  filled  with  horrible  pictures, 
I  imagined  my  children  enduring  all  kinds  of  suffering, 
until  heart  and  brain  reeled  at  the  maddening  thoughts. 
I  continually  saw  these  frightened  little  creatures,  trying 
vainly  to  escape  their  cruel,  frantic  father.  While  in  this 
state  I  composed  these  lines: 

MIDNIGHT  THOUGHTS. 

la  silent  hours  of  midnight,  while  earth  is  wrapped  in  dreams', 
I  ponder  o'er  my  present  life,  how  desolate  it  seems. 
Scan  each  page  so  wakefully  penned  in  despair  and  grief, 
Then  turn  to  my  fond  childhood's  home  for  comfort  and  relief. 

A  cottage  white  was  standing  there  upon  a  grand  old  hill. 
Among  some  spreading  shady  trees,  and  everything  was  still. 
In  that  dear  home  my  parents  lived,  five  brothers  large  and  small. 
And  uncles,  aunts  and  cousins  near,  and  I  the  pet  of  all. 

But  now  my  children  call  for  me,  I  hear  their  plaintive  cries, 
Away  from  mother  and  their  home,  tears  in  their  sweet  blue  eyes. 
They  call  for  mother,  call  for  me,  while  slumbers  o'er  them  steal, 
But  mother  is  too  far  from  them  to  hear  their  sad  appeal. 

0  take  us  to  our  mother,  a  stranger's  love  we  are  told, 
Is  nothing  like  a  mother's  that  never  can  grow  cold ; 

She  praises  us  when  we  do  right  and  gently  strokes  our  hair, 
And  kisses  us  when  we  lie  down,  then  breathes  a  silent  prayer. 

Poor  little  ones  !  their  pleadings  fall  as  if  on  hearts  of  stone, 
Four  helpless  girls,  and  one  small  boy,  are  left  to  weep  alone. 
No  mother  there  to  kiss  their  brows,  nor  soothe  their  childish  fears, 
Nor  teach  them  what  is  right  or  wrong,  nor  smile  away  their  tears. 

When  last  they  came  to  visit  me  I  could  but  calmly  smile, 
For  cruel  eyes  were  watching  o'er  my  darlings  all  the  while; 

1  feigned  a  cold  indifference  to  hide  my  deep  despair, 

I  kissed  their  sweet  and  dimpled  cheeks  and  softly  stroked  their  hair. 


132  ONE  woman's  life. 

Wide  seas  may  roll  between  us,  and  my  gold  brown  hair  may  seem 
A  snow  drift,  and  my  present  life  be  only  as  a  dream ; 
My  darlings  will  return  to  me  and  all  life's  dangers  brave, 
Perchance  be  folded  in  my  arms  or  weep  around  my  grave. 

During  the  following  month  I  came  very  near  losing 
my  faith  in  God.  He  seemed  so  deaf  to  my  frenzied 
prayer,  I  had  trusted  him  and  he  had  not  answered  me. 
I  felt  as  if  engulfed  by  waves,  dark,  deep,  and  merciless. 
But  for  the  kindness  of  Sister  Alice  and  her  sister  I  could 
not  have  borne  mv  terrible  lot.  An  unfortunate  scoffer, 
who  lived  near,  frequently  said,  why  did  not  God,  whom 
I  believed  in,  restore  me  to  sight  and  strength.  He  in- 
sisted on  reading  to  me  from  Ingersoll's  noted  works 
until  doubts  arose  in  my  mind.  At  last,  feeling  that  if  I 
lost  faith  in  God,  I  would  surely  go  mad,  I  determined 
that  though  he  might  slay  me,  I  would  love  and  trust 
him,  and  prayed  all  night  till  the  morning  light,  as  Jacob 
wrestled  with  the  angel,  for  I  could  not  "go"  without  a 
blessing.  1 7}mst  be  heard.  The  prayer  of  faith  would 
avail  and  I  cried  for  mercy  and  help — that  he  would  hear 
and  bless  me  yet.  I  begged  he  would  send  one  of  his 
faithful  ones  right  away  who  would  encourage  and 
strengthen  my  faith  and  prove  to  me  that  I  was  not 
forsaken  as  it  seemed,  but  that  my  prayers  were  heard 
and  remembered. 

That  very  day,  in  direct  answer  to  this  prayer.  Dr. 
Miller,  an  elderly  divine,  called  and  spoke  such  words  of 
comfort  and  peace,  that  my  doubts  were  at  once  removed 
and  my  soul  was  at  rest.  I  now  received  letters  from  mother, 
which  were  hope-inspiring'and  full  of  comfort.  Edgar's 
business  had  been  prosperous,  but  he  was  in  poor  health, 


THE   TRIAL   OF   FAITH.  133 

and  was  greatly  troubled  over  the  future  for  his  family  as 
he  felt  his  life  must  be  short,  as  he  frequently  said,  and 
what  he  did  he  must  do  quickly.  He  was  fully  impressed 
with  the  idea  that  his  children  would  soon  be  left  father- 
less. He  ate  and  slept  but  little,  and  often  walked  the 
house  in  anguish  of  spirit,  saying,  *'  What  will  become 
of  my  family  if  I  die?"  Poor,  dear  Edgar!  He  felt 
that  his  Hfe  was  fast  ebbing  away,  but  did  not  think  how 
soon  his  fears  were  to  be  realized,  arid  he  be  laid  in  a  pre- 
mature grave.  I  had  always  loved  sister  Ahce,  but 
during  those  dark  days  I  clung  to  her  as  a  child  clings  to 
its  mother,  and  ever  found  her  faithful  and  patient,  gentle 
and  kind,  ever  willing  and  ready  to  leave  her  work  or  bed 
at  night,  to  encourage  and  comfort  me  in  my  hours  of 
passionate  grief,  which  were  so  frequent  that  I  could  not 
gain  my  strength.  Her  children,  Herbert  and  Laura, 
strove  in  their  childish  manner  to  alleviate  my  sorrow  and 
my  pain,  by  running  to  wait  on  me  or  sitting  on  my  bed. 
Little  Laura,  who  was  just  the  age  of  my  Bertha,  often 
said,  "Don't  weep,  Aunt  Edna.  I  will  bring  your 
children  to  see  you  some  day.'*  Those  little  forms  were 
ever  flitting  about  my  room,  and  their  sweet  chattering 
voices  whiled  away  many  weary  hours.  I  became  deeply 
attached  to  them,  as  I  also  did  to  the  baby  girl,  who  came 
that  summer.  Late  in  the  autumn  Edgar's  business  called 
him  to  Clio,  South  Carolina.  He  had  been  working  on 
an  invention,  which  proved  a  success.  Time  only  was 
needed  to  make  him  a  wealthy  man. 

This  business  called  him  away,  and  he  wanted  to  take 
his  family  with  him.  He  said  I  could  accompany  them 
if  I  desired,  but  he  had  given  up  all  hope  of  my  going 
North,  or  of  getting  well,  believing  what  my  physicians 


134  ONE  woman's  life. 

said,  that  I  would  never  walk  again.  Though  dis- 
couraged, my  faith  and  trust  that  God  would  answer 
m}'  prayers  sustained  me.  When  Mrs.  Ivanston,  an 
old  schoolmate  who  was  living  in  Charlotte,  learned 
that  I  was  there  and  called  to  see  me,  I  felt  that  He 
was  directing  my  way.  She  begged  me  not  to  give 
up  trying  to  recover,  but  to  remain  and  go  to  a  hos- 
pital in  the  city,  where  she  believed  I  could  be  bene- 
fited. I  thought  seriously  of  this  and  prayed  over  it;  at 
last  I  concluded  to  take  her  advice  and  make  one  more 
effort.  Arrangements  were  speedily  made,  "and  a  few 
days  before  Christmas,  I  was  carried  on  a  stretcher  to  the 
hospital.  The  last  thing  I  heard  was  dear  little  Laura's 
voice  calling,  "Mamma,  Mamma,  I  want  to  go  with  Aunt 
Edna!"  This  she  did  repeatedly  until  the  echoes  but 
faintly  reached  my  ears.  My  thoughts  wandered  back  to 
my  own  children,  I  wondered  how  long  it  would  be  ere 
I  met  them  again.  Ah,  those  dear  childish  tones!  I 
heard  the  voices  of  my  own  poor  little  ones,  and  I  cried 
out  from  the  depths  of  my  heart,  "Once  more,  my  dar- 
lings, mother  will  make  an  effort  for  your  dear  sakes  ! 
You  are  my  life,  my  purpose  to  live.  I  must  not  die  and 
leave  you!"  So,  with  this  one  hope,  and  trust  in  God 
that  he  would  in  time  restore  me  to  strength  and  sight, 
that  I  may  see  your  smiles  and  innocent  eyes  again, 
mother  will  struggle  on,  I  will  endure  yet  a  while  longer, 
and  surely  God  will  hear  my  cry.  God  help  me !  God  pit}' 
me  and  give  me  faith  by  which  to  see  and  walk!  My 
little  ones,  I  press  onward!  1  turn  my  heart  from  the 
dark  and  horrible  past,  my  hopes  and  my  trust  are  before 
me,  and  the  thought  of  them  suggested  the  following 
lines: 


THE   TRIAL    OF    FAITH.  135 

WHY  I  LOVE  THExM. 

T;  would  tell  thee  of  Stella,  how  she  made  glad  the  hours, 
So  oft  calling  Mother  with  strewn  wreaths  and  flowers; 
Jilue  ej-es  brightly  glancing,  till  they  sparkle  and  dance. 
While  singing  so  sweetly,  gaily  skipping  perchance- 
Then  comes  my  son  Earnest,  an  affectionate  boy. 
So  true  and  so  thonghif  ul,  never  aught  but  a  joy, 
E'er  steady  and  happy,  eyes  earnest  and  clear, 
His  dear  voice  so  merry,  methinks  I  still  hear. 

I  would  say  of  Marie  that  she  is  very  fair, 

With  waj's  of  a  lady,  and  golden  waved  hair. 

She  scolds  and  lauihs  sweetlj'^,  ever  chattering  they  tell, 

With  curls  and  long  lashes ;  she'll  yet  be  a  belle. 

Three-year-old  Bertha,  whose  housewifely  care 

And  womanly  habits  call  forth  praises  rare  ; 

Sweet  little  maiden,  whose  large,  tender  heart 

To  blame  makes  thee  timid  and  thy  tears  swift  to  start. 

Tall,  slender  Celeste,  whose  spirited  fair  face 
And  excelling  talents  could  a  palace  well  grace. 
Five  faces  so  pretty,  eyes  brighter  than  gems 
And  hearts  kind  and  loving,  is  why  I  love  them. 


CHAPTER  VII. 


LIGHT  IN  DARKNESS. 

HOMELESS. 

Once  more  I  breathe  the  city  air, 
Hear  many  speak  of  objects  rare, 
And  hear  the  din  of  crowds  that  throng 
The  thoroughfare  the  whole  day  long. 

Again  I  see  the  human  form, 
The  clouds  that  gather.'and  the  storm, 
Yet  there's  naught  to  make  me  glad; 
My  heart  is  heavy,  sore  and  sad. 

Another  cross  I  have  to  take, 
Beneath  its  weight  I  shrink  and  shake  ; 
The  dregs  of  sorrow  still  must  drain  ; 
The  bitter  draught  is  full  of  pain. 

For  those  I  love  I  cannot  see, 
The  childish  faces  full  of  glee, 
No  little  hands  hold  mine  and  press 
A  kiss  to  lips  that  long  to  bless. 

No  little  forms  stand  by  my  bed, 
No  more  I  hear  the  words  that  fed 
My  soul  with  love.    O  God  !  I  cry, 
I'm  far  from  home,  alone  I  sigh. 

^Y  brother  and  family  soon  left  the  city  and  I 
accepted  Mrs.  Ivanston's  kind  invitation  ta 
remain  with  her  during  Christmas  holidays. 
She  was   a    pleasant,  cheerful   lady,  and 
deeply    interested    in  my  recovery,    conse- 
quently   my  visit    was  as   pleasant  as  could  have  been: 


LIGHT   IN   DARKNESS.  13T 

expected  under  the  peculiar  circumstances  in  which  I 
was  placed.  I  had  regained  my  lost  faith  and  again  felt 
the  presence  of  angels  in  my  room,  which  brought 
smiles  of  joy  and  peace  to  my  pallid  face.  I  longed  to 
return  with  them  to  their  "Heavenly  Home,"  where  there 
was  neither  pain  nor  sorrow — there  to  reign  with  my 
blessed  Saviour  for  time  and  eternity! 

THE  LAND  OF  LOVE. 

We  are  told  of  the  beautiful  laud  of  love, 
Of  bright  jeweled  mansions  in  blue  skies  above; 
Of  mansions  that  glitter  with  diamonds  and  gold, 
While  airs  of  sweet  odors  their  fair  walls  enfold; 
Of  heavenly  music,  soft,  thrilling,  divine, 
Fountains  that  sparkle,  and  bright  suns  that  shine;. 
Birds  of  gay  plumage  with  song  fill  the  air, 
Flowers  all  lovely  and  crowns  with  gems  rare. 

All  this  we  are  told  and  many  things  more, 
Of  Heaven's  fair  Jordan,  an  evergreen  shore, 
Its  golden  gates  ever  are  standing  ajar, 
Where  fall  huge  burdens  we  have  carried  so  far  ; 
Shining  robed  angels  there  welcome  us  home, 
Joyously  lead  us  through  fair  fields  to  roam; 
Heaven  alive  with  sweet  praises  shall  ring, 
We  bow  at  the  throne  of  our  Saviour  and  King. 

Blessings  there  are  bestowed  just  suited  to  all. 
No  more  vain  regrets,  no  more  tears  to  fall, 
No  hearts  there  to  ache,  no  sins  to  repent, 
No  leaving  of  friend?,  nor  wrongs  to  resent  ; 
No  asking  of  bread  to  be  given  a  stone, 
No  needle-worn  fingers  that  ache  to  the  bone ; 
From  this  fair  land  all  life's  cares  have  flown. 
Queen  happiness  re'gns  and  love  is  her  crown. 

My  afflictions,  perhaps,  were  blessings  in  disguise,  since 
they  had  brought  me  so  near  my  heavenl}^  Father,  and! 
revealed  to  me  so  many  hidden  mysteries.     The  comfort- 


138  ONE  woman's  life. 

ing  words  of  St.  Paul,  "For  our  light  affliction  which  is 
■but  for  a  moment,  worketh  for  us  a  far  more  exceeding 
and  eternal  weight  of  glory,  while  we  look  not  at  the 
things  which  are  seen,  but  the  things  which  are  not  seen, 
for  the  things  which  are  seen  are  temporal,  but  the  things 
which  are  not  seen  are  eternal,"  were  ever  in  my  mind. 

The  following  Sabbath,  while  the  family  were  at  din- 
ner in  a  distant  room,  I  was  alarmed  by  the  smell  of 
something  burning.  Several  moments  passed  ere  I  could 
make  my  weak  voice  heard,  when  some  one  came  in 
screaming  "Fire!"  and  then  left  me  alone.  The  flames 
proceeded  from  a  closet  in  my  room  and  were  already 
bursting  through  the  roof.  For  a  few  seconds  I  thought 
myself  forgotten  and  made  a  few  frantic  efforts  to  crawl 
from  my  bed,  unwilling  to  taste  death  in  a  "fiery  furnace." 
The  excited  family  ran  hither  and  thither,  but  at  last 
when  I  thought  myself  forsaken  and  left  to  perish  in  the 
wild  iiames,  T  heard  voices  and  felt  Mr.  Ivanston's  strong 
arms  lifting  my  trembling  form,  which  he  carried  into  the 
yard  and  laid  upon  some  bed  clothing.  I  was  soon 
picked  up  by  some  women,  who  carried  me  into  Mr. 
Burden's  house.  The  city  was  alarmed  and  the  flames 
of  the  buildings  soon  extinguished. 

Although  my  friends  lost  valuable  clothing  and  furni- 
ture, yet  every  article  belonging  to  me  was  mysteriously 
saved.  I  believed  this  was  providential.  Strange  as 
it  may  appear  the  excitement  of  the  fire  caused  my  eyes 
to  open  and  I  dimly  saw  the  faces  around  me.  During 
the  next  two  days  faint  visions  met  my  gaze  when,  alas! 
my  eyes  again  closed. 

Mrs.  Burden  was  a  noble  Christian  lady  and  in  her 
.house  I  passed  the  happiest    Cnristmas    I    had    known 


LIGHT    IN    DARKNESS.  139 

in  five  years  !  Each  member  of  the  famil}'  endeavored 
to  make  me  forget  that  I  was  a  helpless  stranger  ; 
even  the  cook,  a  kind-hearted  creature,  seemed  to 
anticipate  every  wish.  After  remaining  with  them  two 
da3'^s,  not  wishing  to  intrude  longer,  I  insisted  upon 
being  removed  to  the  hospital,  and  was  accompanied 
there  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Burden,  who  left  many 
charges  with  the  nurse,  that  I  should  be  especially  cared 
for.  They  departed,  with  the  promise  to  return  soon, 
and  left  me  alone  in  a  large,  strange  room,  listening  to 
'the  moans  of  an  old  lady  in  the  room  above.  I  felt 
strangely,  lonely  and  desolate.  I  had  been  informed  that 
^'St.  Peter's  Hospital,"  of  which  I  was  now  an  inmate 
was  under  the  management  of  nine  Episcopalian  ladies, 
and  that  it  stood  in  the  outskirts  of  the  city,  in  a  cool 
and  pleasant  place.  The  matron  had  died  recently  and 
no  one  had  been  found  to  fill  the  position,  so  a  Mrs.  King 
was  acting  as  nurse  to  the  patients,  and  now  took  charge 
of  me,  while  Mr.  Grundy,  a  gruff  old  Englishman,  did 
the  errands  and  chores.  Before  the  lapse  of  twelve  hours, 
I  was  very  homesick,  and  regretted  my  hasty  decision. 
Edgar  had  been  opposed  to  my  leaving  him,  but  had 
kindly  offered  to  bear  my  expenses  in  making  what  he 
termed  a  "useless  effort,"  as  he  considered  my  case 
hopeless. 

The  day  aftei'  my  arrival,  I  was  visited  by  an  Episco- 
pal clerg3^man,  Mr.  Cheshire  (now  bishop  of  North 
Carolina),  who  became  my  warm  friend,  also  by  Mrs. 
Fanen,  president  of  the  hospital,  and  Mrs.  Wilkinson, 
secretary  and  treasurer.  Very  soon  a  deep  interest  was 
manifested  by  the  managers  and  visitors  in  my  behalf 
<while  many  who  had   never  visited  the   hospital  before> 


140  ONE  woman's  life. 

I 
hearing  of  my  singular  case,  called  to  see  me,  and  my 
table  was  kept  loaded  with  flowers  and  delicacies  oi 
every  description.  I  soon  gained  many  warm  and  de- 
voted friends,  who  strove  in  every  possible  way  to  divert 
my  mind  from  my  many  sorrows,  but  my  mental  strength 
had  entirely  failed,  and  I  wept  unceasingly,  through  the 
long,  lonely  hours  of  night,  being  haunted  by  thoughts 
of  my  motherless  children,  and  the  face  of  their  father, 
whose  eyes  seemed  burning  into  my  soul  like  coals  of 
fire,  while  the  thin,  cruel  lips  were  ever  parted  with  some- 
taunt  or  fearful  threat.  I  had  been  an  inmate  of  the  hos- 
pital two  or  three  months,  and  my  physical  condition  was 
somewhat  improved  under  the  careful  treatment  of  the 
kind  and  proficient  physician.  Dr.  Brevard,  when  I  met 
with  a  great  loss.  A  telegram  was  received,  bearing  the 
sad  intelligence  that  brother  Edgar  was  no  more.  He 
had  died  suddenly  in  a  strange  place,  leaving  to  the  cold 
mercy  of  the  world  ^  a  delicate  young  wife  and  three 
small  children.  I  remembered  his  words,  when  he  last 
visited  me.  Walking  up  and  down  the  room,  suddenly 
he  stopped  before  my  bed,  saying,  "Edna,  you  will  live- 
years  after  I  am  dead  and  buried."  "Why,"  said  I,  "you 
have  changed  your  opinion.  You  did  think  it  useless  to 
try  to  regain  my  health."  "Yes,  I  think  differently 
now.     You  will  yet  live  to  see  and  walk." 

His  words  were  prophetic.  Presently  passing  from 
my  room,  he  said  he  would  return  and  say  good-bye,  but. 
business  prevented  and  he  never  saw  me  again.  Shortl}'^ 
thereafter  came  the  news  of  his  death.  His  last  words,. 
"You  will  see  and  walk,"  filled  me  with  strange,  sad 
longing.  Could  it  be  !  Would  I  yet  see  my  dading- 
children  !     Were  he  and  my  mother  led  of  God  to  speak. 


LIGHT   IN   DARKNESS.  141 

thus?  I  believed  they  were,  and  that  I  would  yet  see 
and  walk  as  they  had  predicted. 

I  could  have  borne  his  death  better,  could  I  have  been 
with  him,  but  oh !  it  was  so  hard  to  have  him  die  a 
"stranger  in  a  strange  land — unhonored  and  unblest  !" 
Had  I  even  been  able  to  have  rendered  him  some  small 
service,  or  to  have  spoken  a  comforting  word  to  his  des- 
olate, crushed  wife,  this  fact,  in  itself,  would  have  been 
consoling.  He  being  the  only  member  of  my  family  able 
to  assist  me,  my  grief  was  even  more  poignant. 

A  notice  in  a  Charlotte  paper  spoke  in  great  praise 
of  his  energy  and  brilliant  prospects,  stating  time  alone 
was  necessary  to  make  him  a  2:)rosperous  and  wealthy  man. 

Eyes  that  are  closed  to  earthly  sight 
Can  never  wake  to  weep, 
Nor  pain,  nor  woe,  nor  grief,  nor  blight, 
Can  move  that  slumber  deep." 

His  sleep  is  sweet,  without  a  care, 
Feels  not  the  cold,  nor  heeds  the  storm, 
Near  his  Saviour,  without  a  fear, 
He  waits  the  resurection  morn. 

But,  as  mother  had  once  repeated  to  me,  during  one 
■of  my  hours  of  despondency,  "With  all  your  sorrow,  you 
have  one  comfort:  your  children  are  clever  and  pretty* 
you  must  remember,  Edna,  'God  tempers  the  wind  to 
the  shorn  lamb.'"  So  the  winds  were  now  tempered  to 
me.  My  friends  read,  sang  and  talked  to  me.  In  Mrs. 
Wilkinson,  I  found  a  second  Mrs.  Yonge.  She  spent 
many  hours  by  my  bed,  and  I  learned  to  depend  upon 
her  very  soon.  She  was  a  noble  woman  and  her  efforts 
in  my  behalf  seemed  untiring;  her  strong  energetic  spirit 
and  the  deep  love  she  awakened  in  my  heart  for  her 


142  ONE  woman's  life. 

often  caused  my  sensitive,  weak  frame  to  tremble  with, 
pleasure.     Mrs.    Fanen  likewise  was  a  kind  and  good 
woman,  being  an  active  worker  in  the  "Master's  Vine- 
yard,"   and  did  much  to   contribute    to    my    happiness 
and  comfort.     I  will  not  attempt  to  describe  the  many 
other  dear  friend?,  who  took  such  an  interest  in  my  wel- 
fare (they  were  so  numerous,  over  one  hundred  and  fifty^ 
it  would  take  a  volume  to  do  them  justice).      However,  I 
will  say  they  were  among  the  noblest  and  best.     Three 
dear  ones  especially  were  my  spiritual  comforters.     One,, 
a  sweet  woman,  I  accidentally  discovered,  had  been  one 
of  the  merry  party  who  had  laughed  at  me  in  Asheville, 
years  before;  but  I  loved  her  now,  and  she  failed  to  recog-- 
nize    in  the  unhappy  creature  before  her,  the    healthy 
young  girl    whose    draggled    appearance    had    excited 
her  mirth  in  "days  of  yore."     I  had  prayed  for  friends, 
and  my  prayers  were  answered;  but  for  this  I    would 
have  died.     I  now  received  comforting  letters  from  alL 
my  old    friends,    and    one   from  mother  containing  the: 
following  lines  : 

"TO   MY  DAUGHTER." 

My  child,  the  cold  dews  of  evening  are  around  thee, 

Bereft  of  thy  si^ht, 
And  dark  lines  of  sorrow  and  trials  surround  thee, 

By  day,  and  by  night. 

To-day  I  am  sitting  so  dreary  and  lonely, 

Heartsick  and  in  pain, 
And  wishing  'twere  Heaven's  will  I  could  only 

Once  see  thee  again. 

If  so,  I  could  bear  all  the  pain  and  the  sorrow 

Of  life  and  its  cares. 
And  not  fill  the  hours  of  the  coming  to-morrow. 

With  sighs  and  with  tears. 


LIGHT   IN    DARKNESS.  143- 

Like  you,  many  hopes  of  the  future  I  cherished 

When  free  from  life's  care; 
Just  80,  all  my  brightest  fond  visions  have  perished 

Like  mists  in  the  air. . 

I  still  hope  that  God,  in  his  merciful  kindness. 

Thy  sight  will  restore, 
And  permit  thee,  when  perfectly  healed  of  thy  blindness, 

To  see  us  once  more. 

But  restore  thee  or  not,  one  hope  I  will  cherish, 

At  home  and  abroad. 
That  I  may  submit  to  my  fate,  though  I  perish, 

And  trust  in  my  God. 

I  shed  many  tears  o'er  the  ruined  prospect  of  my 
father's  family.  The  property  he  had  fairly  purchased 
in  Mitchell  county,  and  honorably  owned,  was  now  under 
a  heavy  lawsuit,  the  former  owners  pretending  there 
was  a  flaw  in  the  deed.  He,  together  with  my  youngest 
brother,  was  now  publishing  a  paper  called  the  "Moun- 
tain Voice." 

Financial  pressure  was  added  to  our  other  troubles. 
I  had  been  in  the  hospital  about  six  months,  when  my 
physicians  said  they  had  done  all  they  could  for  me. 
They  advised  me  to  go  North,  saying  there  was  a  possi- 
bility of  recovery  under  treatment  of  physicians  more 
skilled  than  they.  I  was  deeply  grieved  at  the  thought 
of  leaving  the  dear  friends  and  the  hospital  where  I  had 
received  such  untiring  kind  treatment,  to  whom  I  had  be- 
come so  much  attached,  to  go  among  cold,  disinterested 
strangers.  I  was  so  weary  and  exhausted  from  contin- 
ual grief  for  my  children,  not  knowing  where  they  were 
nor  what  was  being  done  for  them,  which  even  the  great 
kindness  of  my  friends  had  failed  lo  overcome,  that  I  did 
not  have  sufficient   courage    to  make   another  struggle 


144  ONE  woman's  life. 

The  inflamed  cartilages,  which  connected  the  vertebrae 
in  my  spine,  were  now  strong  enough  to  admit  of  my 
sitting  up  a  few  moments,  but  I  was  fearful  that  if  I 
should  again  be  moved,  I  would  receive  fresh  injury. 
My  eyes  were  beginning  to  open,  and  I  could  dimly  dis- 
cern the  outline  of  objects  within  the  range  of  my  vision, 
but  I  was  too  overwhelmed  by  grief  about  my  children 
to  rejoice  at  this  unexpected  good  fortune.  Yet  I  smiled 
in  the  presence  of  visitors,  partially  hiding  from  them  my 
mental  suffering.  When  alone  I  would  sing  low  to  my- 
self the  dear  old  songs  of  childhood  to  relieve  my  full 
soul  and  keep  up  courage  for  another  change.  After 
many  prayers,  I  was  given  courage  and  faith  to  take  the 
dreaded  journey,  trusting  in  God's  promises.  At  this 
time,  I  received  visits  from  my  mother  and  Mrs.  Chriton, 
who  strongly  encouraged  me  to  act  upon  my  physician's 
advice.  It  had  been  between  two  and  three  years  since 
I  had  met  my  mother  ;  during  these  years  we  both  had 
passed  through  scenes  of  fearful  suffering.  She  was  still 
weak  and  nervous,  but  was  determined  to  come  to  see 
me.  Father  was  prevented  from  joining  her  on  account 
of  business  perplexities.  His  business  no  longer  pros- 
pered as  it  had  in  former  years.  I  must  not  forget  to 
mention  that  about  fifty  sweet  little  children  were  num- 
bered among  my  regular  visitors.  They  came  often, 
bringing  flowers,  fruits,  cakes,  etc.  When  all  the  neces- 
sary arrangements  were  made,  principally  by  Mrs.  Wil- 
kinson, for  my  comfort,  and  I  again  was  placed  on  my 
stretcher,  many  of  these  children,  with  m}-  mother,  Mrs. 
Wilkinson  and  other  friends,  accompanied  me  to  the  train, 
and  with  tears,  kisses  and  best  wishes,  bade  me  '<God- 
speed  !"  I  was  put  in  care  of  a  Mrs.  Thurmond,  who  was 


LIGHT   IN    DARKNESS.  145 

returning  to  Washington,  and  placed  in  a  comfortable 
sleeper.  Feeling  that  God  was  with  me,  I  gently  drop- 
ped to  sleep.  Arriving  in  Washington  the  next  morning 
about  nine  o'clock,  I  was  taken  in  an  ambulance  to  the 
Columbia  Hospital,  and  was  left  in  charge  of  Dr.  Mur- 
phy. He  was  a  very  intelligent  and  learned  Irish  gen- 
tleman, and  underneath  his  gruff  and  surly  manner,  beat 
a  warm  and  generous  heart. 

Unfortunately,  I  learned  that  my  diseases  did  not  come 
under  his  line  of  treatment,  but  he  promised  to  do  all  he 
could  for  me.     In   the  meantime   he   told   me   that   my 
friends  would  better  make  arrangements  to  have  me  ad- 
mitted into  some  other  good  hospital.     My  parents,  be- 
ing unable  to  bear  my  expenses,  I  was  placed  in  the  free 
ward,  which  was  filled  with  the  lower  class  of  Germans, 
Irish  and  Americans,  and  was  compelled  to  pass  the  long 
weary  days  in  the  society  of  these  coarse,  uncongenial 
companions.     Only  the  strong  desire  to  return  to  my  suf- 
fering children  enabled  me  to  endure  the  thought  of  re- 
ceiving charity.     In    addition  to  my   other  sorrows  my 
cheeks    now  burned  with    mortification  and  humiliation, 
but  I  felt  that  God  was    helping   me  and  not  the  people, 
although    they    were    instruments  in  his  hands.     I  had 
never  asked  help  from  any  one  but  Him. 

Mother,  in  her  great  distress,  had  appealed  to  a  few 
of  her  wealthy  relatives  living  in  distant  States,  for  help, 
they,  in  former  days  having  expressed  interest  and  affec- 
tion for  her.  One  of  them  advised  her  to  trust  in  God, 
another  politely  and  coldly  refused,  saying  he  must  look 
to  the  interest  of  his  own  family,  while  two  did  not 
reply.  She  did  not  make  another  attempt  in  that  line. 
Mrs.  Terwald,  the  matron  of  the  hospital,  was  very  kind, 
10 


146  ONE  woman's  life. 

but  was  making  preparations  to  visit  Montana,  and  I  saw 
but  little   of  her.     In   Miss   Sewell,  a  lovely   lady  who 
took  charge  in  her  absence,  I  found  another  sympathiz- 
ing friend  and  a  good  Christian.     The  marked  attention 
that  she  and  ladies  in  other  rooms   paid  me,  subjected 
me  to  the  jealous  criticisms  of  a  few  ill-natured  patients 
in  my  room,  and  I  was  made  to  feel  very  uncomfortable. 
Through  the  influence  of  Mrs.  Wilkinson,  my  Charlotte 
friend,  I  was  visited  by  many  nice  people,  among  them 
the  daughters  of  Admiral  Wilkes,  Mrs.  Judge  Stockerd 
and  Mr.  Curtis,  an  Episcopal  clergyman.     For  the  first 
time  in  nearly  six  years  I  slept  soundly  as  a  tired  child  the 
entire  night  through,  only    free  from  physical  pain,  but 
the  inmates  of  the  hospital  were  often  aroused  by    my 
thrilling,  piercing  screams,  caused  by   horrible  visions  of 
my  suffering  children — frightful  nightmares  in  my  dreams 
of  trying  to  secure  tny   children.      Often    I    thought    I 
would    start    with  them    through  a    dark    wood,  would 
nearly  reach  the  station  where  we  would  take  the  train, 
when  M.r.  Roderick,  his  brother  and  sisters,  Harriet  and 
Rachel,  would  suddenly  dash  down  upon  us,  and  my  wild, 
agonized  screams  would    arouse  many  in  the    hospital, 
even  those  upon  the  third  floor,  so  heartrending  and  de- 
spairing were  my  cries.     This  sleep,  though  disturbed  by 
frightful  dreams,  gave  me  new  strength, and  I  soon  became 
strong  enough  to  sit  up  several  hours  through  the  day. 
My  eyes  also  grew  stronger,  the  pain  having   partially 
abated;  and  now,  oh,  joy!    I  could  see  across  my  room, 
and  see  the  faces  of  my  visitors.     At  first  they  only  re- 
mained open  a  minute  or  so  at  a  time,  and  often  they 
would  close  at  intervals  of  several  days,  causing  great 


LIGHT    IN    DARKNESS.  147 

anxiety  as  to  whether  they  would  ever  open  again.  I 
had  been  blind  about  six  years,  and  it  would  be  useless 
to  attempt  to  describe  my  feelings  upon  finding  that  I 
was  not  hopelessly  so. 

A  deep  interest  was  now  manifested  in  my  behalf  by 
Mrs.  Terwald,  who  had  returned,  and  also  by  the  nurses 
and  patients — the  unkind  feeling  was  gone.  Eliza 
Reeves,  an  orphan  girl,  became  ver}^  much  attached  to 
me,  and  often  sat  by  my  bed,  reading  in  a  sweet,  pa- 
thetic voice,  passages  from  the  Bible  and  other  religious 
books.  I  had  already  found  friends  among  those  I  had 
.looked  upon  as  cold  strangers,  and  know  that  they  had 
been  provided  by  my  Heavenly  Friend. 

I  had  been  in  this  hospital  ten  weeks,  when  Mrs.  Thur- 
mond informed  me  that  she  had  made  arrangements  to 
have  me  admitted  into  a  fine  hospital  in  Baltimore.  I 
had  been  left  in  her  charge  by  my  mother  and  Mrs.  Wil- 
kinson. She  was  a  stranger,  but  had  volunteered  her 
services,  and  had  been  very  kind.  I  felt  like  one  in  a 
dream  when  I  was  seated  in  a  carriage,  by  her  side,  and 
found  that  I  was  once  more  able  to  see  the  beautiful 
sky,  and  streets  lined  with  magnificent  shade  trees  and 
fine  palace-like  residences.  It  seemed  like  some  won- 
derful vision,  too  unreal  to  be  true.  I  had  lain  so  long 
in  darkness,  my  fingers  doing  the  work  of  eyes,  that  I 
felt  deeply  impressed  with  everything  I  saw,  as  it  all 
seemed  so  strange  and  new. 

When  we  reached  the  depot,  I  was  too  weary  to  sit 
up  longer,  and  was  again  placed  on  a  stretcher  and  car- 
ried to  Baltimore.  As  Mrs.  Thurmond  did  not  feel  well 
enough  to  go  with  me,  I  was  accompanied  by  Mr.  Thur- 
mond, her   husband.     Arriving  in  Baltimore,  I  was  sur- 


148  ONE  woman's  life. 

prised  to  learn  that  there  had  been  no  arrangements  made 
for  my  admission  into  any  hospital.     Mr.  Thurmond  took 
me  to  one    hospital  and    begged    them  to  let    me  remain 
until  he  could  make  arrangements  elsewhere.    I  was  car- 
ried upstairs  and  left  in  a  large,  well  lighted  room.     Look- 
ing around  I  observed    three   other  patients.     The    first 
was  an  uncouth  Irish  girl,  who  had  her  head  bound  in  a 
handkerchief  ;  the  second  was  a  small,  red-headed  girl  of 
twelve  years,  who  was   afflicted  with    St.  Vitus'  dance  ;. 
the    third,  a  strange-looking  German    girl.     The    nurse, 
who  entered  soon,  questioned  me  sharply   as  to  where  I 
had  come  from  and  the  nature  of   my  disease.     She  was 
a  spinster  of  about  forty  summers,  with  keen,  cold,  black 
eyes,    and  her   name    was   Sally   Johnson.     I  anxiously 
awaited  Mr.  Thurmond's  return  as    the    gloomy  atmos- 
phere of  the  room  threw  a  chill  over  my  spirits.     At  length 
he  came  and  said  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  remove  me 
that  day  as  he  was   compelled  to   return  immediately  to 
Washington,  but    said  that   he   had  made  arrangements 
with  a  friend  to  take  me  to  another  hospital  the  next  day,, 
as  the  one  I  was  in  at  that  time  did  not  admit    free  pa- 
tients out  of  the  city.     Just  before  dark  a  number  of  stu- 
dents came  around  and  asked  me  many  questions.     I  was 
indeed  drinking  the  bitter  cup  of  humiliation,  being  sub- 
jected to  a  pauper's  treatment  and  classed  with  them.  My 
soul  was  filled  with  fear    anddread  of    the    place,  and   I 
longed  for  the  night  to  pass  that  I  might  leave  its  gloomy- 
portals.     All  the    next    day  I    listened   anxiously  for  the 
welcome  voice  of    Mr.  Thurmond's   friend.     Would    he 
never    come]?     Night   sat    in  drearily,  for  I  knew   I  had 
been  cruelly  deceived   and  left  alone  and  friendless  in   a 
large,   strange    city.     Nurse    Sally   questioned    me  sus- 


LIGHT   IN   DARKNESS.  149 

piciously  regarding  my  friend's  strange  desertion,  and  in 
a  few  days  my  despair  and  misery  bordered  on  to  mad- 
ness. Sail}',  finding  that  I  was  friendless  and  forsaken, 
shook  and  dragged  me  about  mercilessly.  My  pride, 
will,  and  independent  spirit,  were  entirely  crushed,  and  I 
begged  her  in  tears  not  to  add  to  the  pain  1  already  suf- 
fered. My  tears  and  entreaties  had  no  effect  on  her  hard* 
cruel  nature.  She  was  determined  that  I  should  walk 
and  continued  to  shake  and  drag  me  about  until  I  could 
with  difficulty  breathe  from  pain  and  weakness.  She 
refused  to  give  me  water  and  would  not  allow  the  pa- 
tients to  do  it,  saying  that  if  I  wanted  it  to  get  it  myself. 
I  was  able  to  sit  up,  but  could  not  bear  any  weight  on  my 
weak  and  almost  paralyzed  hmbs,  consequently  was 
compelled  to  live  without  water,  and  also  was  neglected 
in  many  other  distressing  ways. 

The  pain  and  inflammation  in  my  spine  from  this 
severe  treatment  became  almost  unbearable.  She  taunted 
me  with  my  friendlessness  and  being  separated  from  my 
husband,  said  she  guessed  they  sent  me  off  to  get  rid  of 
a  troublesome  burden.  The  patients  were  afraid  to 
interfere,  and  sat  coldly  by  without  speaking.  When 
the  physicians  made  their  daily  rounds,  accompanied  by 
a  large  number  of  students,  I  ventured  to  tell  them  how 
Sally  treated  me.  This  only  added  to  my  distress  as 
she  inflicted  fresh  tortures  when  she  learned  that  I  had 
been  making  complaints.  Dr.  Trimble,  the  physician  to 
whom  I  appealed,  was  as  cold  and  heartless  as  she, 
agreeing  with  her  that  I  could  walk  if  I  v^'ouid.  Other 
patients  had  been  brought  in,  and  two  of  them  were 
placed  on  either  side  of  my  bed.  One  a  large,  coarse, 
filthy  Irish    woman,   with    a    broken    limb;  the    other  a 


150  ,  ONE  woman's  life. 

more  decent  person,  yet  ignorant  and  common.     On  the- 
opposite    side    of    the     room    were  patients,  victims    of 
typhoid    fever   and    like    diseases.     One    of    these  poor 
creatures  and  the  one  with  the  broken  hmb  were  sub- 
jected   to    most    unkind    and    cruel    treatment.     I  was 
greatly  distressed  by  being  an  eye-witness  to  their  suf- 
ferings.    Their  friends  were  not  allowed  to  visit  them.. 
The  sufferer    from  typhoid    fever    vainly  tried    to  leap- 
from  a  window  in  a  frantic  endeavor  to  escape,  and  when  a 
large  club,  which  was  brandished   over  her  head,  failed. 
to  subdue  her,    she    was  held  under  water  until  nearly 
suffocated.     Mr.  and  Mrs.   Thurmond  had  taken   what: 
money  I  had,  so  I  could  not  pay  my  fare  back  to  Wash- 
ington and  had  no  one  to  write  to  my  parents,  who  were 
not  yet  aware  that  I  had  been  moved.     The  past  eleven- 
years   of  my    life    arose  before   me  like   some  ghastly,, 
mocking  phantom,  pointing  to  my  mistakes  and  wrecked 
life,  tearing  open  old    wounds.     My  suffering  had   only 
been  lessened  for  a  time  that  I  might  gain  strength  for 
this  new  affliction.     I  feared  I  would  go  mad  as  I  could 
no  longer  eat,  sleep,  pray  nor  weep,  only  one  cry*  arose 
to  my  lips:  ''  My  God!  my  God!  why  hast  thou  forsaken 
me?"     My   failh  was    shaken.     Why  did    God    permit 
such  abuses  ?     Why    had    he    brought    me  through  so 
much   and  then  at  last  left  me  to  die  homeless,  helpless,, 
friendless  and  alone  in  a  great  city,  surrounded  with  hor- 
rors and  suffering? 

A  sudden  impulse  seized  me.  I  reached  a  postal  card' 
which  was  lying  on  my  table,  and  scrawled,  almost  illegi- 
bly, the  words  agreed  upon  previously  as  a  signal  of 
distress  by  brother  Bradley  and  myself,  "  Then  you'll 
remember  me."     I    handed  the  card  to  the  patient  who. 


LIGHT    IN    DARKNESS.  151 

occupied  the  bed  next  to  mine  and  begged  her  to  mail 
it  when  she  left  the  hospital,  which  she  did  in  a  few 
days.  My  nurse  grew  more  merciless  every  day  and  I 
longingly  watched  the  door,  hoping  to  see  some  famihar 
face,  though  I  knew  this  was  useless  as  my  friends 
were  hundreds  of  miles  avva3\  I  also  watched  the  busy 
throng  surging  through  the  streets,  and  the  large,  impos- 
ing residences  on  the  opposite  side,  wondering  could  I 
make  my  distress  known  to  the  inmates  would  they  pass 
me  coldly  by.  Even  the  dreaded  face  of  Mr.  Roderick 
would  then  have  been  a  welcome  sight.  My  Hmbs  and  a 
large  portion  of  my  body  were  covered  with  painful,  pur- 
ple bruises  received  at  the  cruel  hands  of  my  nurse.  My 
physical  pain  was  greatly  increased.  Tears,  food,  sleep 
and  even  prayer  forsook  me  for  days  and  I  lay  in  such 
terrible  mental  anguish  that  my  brain  seemed  on  fire — my 
memory  a  blank.  Madness  seemed  inevitable,  and  I  was 
not  the  only  sufferer  at  the  hands  of  those  cruel  rulers  of 
that  hospital.  Poor,  sick,  suffering  humanity !  The  Homes 
purporting  to  care  for  and  bless  you  are  sometimes  a 
curse  and  a  torture.  '^Things  are  not  always  what  they 
seem."  And  while  many  of  them  are  indeed  a  blessing 
to  our  land,  some  few  are  more  than  a  curse  and  fraud. 
My  eyes  were  now  wide  open,  though  they  were  very 
weak,  yet  I  could  see  quite  distinctly. 

My  parents  received  my  card  and  money  was  sent  to 
me  to  return  to  Washington.  They  also  wrote  to  the 
Masons  to  visit  me,  my  father  being  a  Master  Mason  in 
high  standing.  I  did  not  wait,  but  got  the  hospital  phy- 
sician, Dr.  West,  to  send  me  to  the  depot  in  an  ambu- 
lance, and  returned  to  Washington  in  a  breakfast  cap, 
wrapper  and  slippers,  which,  with   my  short,  straggling 


152  ONE  woman's  life. 

hair  (it  having  been  cut  off  in  the  hospital),  and  large 
colored  glasses,  caused  looks  of  wonder  from  those  whom 
I  met.  The  man  who  drove  the  ambulance  tenderly 
lifted  me  into  the  car,  purchased  my  ticket,  checked  my 
trunk,  then  left  me  in  the  care  of  the  conductor,  who 
kindly  assisted  me  from  the  car,  and  engaged  a  cab  to  take 
me  to  "Providence  Hospital,"  where  I  was  admitted, 
through  the  influence  of  Miss  Jennie  Wilkinson.  May 
God  forever  bless  the  kind-hearted  men  who  drove  the 
ambulance  and  cab,  and  the  pleasant  conductors!  They 
had  spoken  almost  the  only  kind  words  I  had  heard  in 
the  last  four  fearful  weeks  of  misery.  How  thankful  I 
felt  when  I  found  that  I  was  once  more  safe  from  the 
reach  of  cruel,  hard-hearted  people,  and  outside  of  the 
tall,  massive  building  which  had  seemed  to  me  like  some 
awful,  gloomy  dungeon,  in  which  the  unfortunate,  miser- 
able prisoners  pine  for  hfe-giving  words  and  affection. 
Kind  words  cost  nothing,  but  often  heal  a  broken  heart ; 
and  yet  so  many  forget  to  speak  them!  "Providence 
Hospital  "  was  under  the  management  of  the  "Sisters  of 
Charity."  One  glance  into  their  pure,  good  faces  was 
sufficient  to  satisf}'-  me  that  I  would  be  kindly  treated 
while  with  them.  I  was  taken  to  the  fourth  floor  and 
placed  in  a  spacious,  pleasant  room,  containing  nineteen 
beds.  'Tvvas  my  joy  to  find  among  the  patients  Eliza 
Reeves,  the  orphan  girl  of  "Columbia  Hospital."  She 
was  startled  by  the  look  of  agony  in  my  face,  and  it  was 
whispered  among  the  patients  that  I  had  come  there  to 
die.  But  I  was  now  almost  happy,  surrounded  by  kind 
faces  on  every  side,  kind  doctors,  kind  nurses,  and  kind, 
holy  "Sisters  of  Charity."  At  last  my  wandering  feet 
had  found  rest.     My  physicians  now  pronounced  my  dis- 


LIGHT    IN    DARKNESS.  153 

ease  inflammation  of  the  membranous  coverings  of  the 
spinal  cord,  and  spinal  irritation.  My  trial  of  faith  had 
been  severe  and  the  waiting  long,  but  I  was  to  receive 
the  blessing  I  had  so  longed  for.  The  medical  treatment 
given  me  was  simple  and  effective.  God  stretched  forth 
his  hands  and  blessed  it,  and  a  sudden  and  miraculous 
■  change  was  apparent  in  my  physical  condition.  I  walked  ; 
mylirst  attempts  at  walking  were  very  painful  and  ludi- 
crous, as  I  was  compelled  to  hitch  and  slide  upon  the  floor 
to  relieve  my  swollen,  aching  feet  and  drawn  limbs,  un- 
able to  set  my  feet  level  upon  the  floor.  My  tottering 
steps  were  guided  by  the  hand  of  Eliza  Reeves,  who,  as 
I,  was  striving  to  regain  lost  health.  I  felt  so  thankful  to 
God  for  leading  me  through  the  "  dark  waters."  Praises 
to  His  holy  name!  I  was  once  more  enabled  to  see  and 
walk,  and  to  report  the  glad  tidings  home  to  my  dis- 
tressed parents.  The  letter  bearing  the  news  of  my 
recovery  found  my  parents  at  church  with  prayer  for 
their  afflicted  daughter  ;  the  answer  came,  saying  I  could 
see  and  walk.  The  joyful  news  was  so  gratefully  re- 
ceived that  thanks  to  God  were  immediately  offered  in 
the  church,  and  the  news  afterwards  published  in  the 
papers  for  the  benefit  of  my  friends. 

One  day  I  asked  for  a  mirror,  and  when  it  was  handed 
me  I  shrank  from  the  face  reflected  therein!  The  face  I 
now  saw  was  dark,  haggard  and  sallow,  lined  with  pur- 
ple veins  and  heavy  dark  circles  under  the  eyes,  so  little 
resembling  the  face  I  had  seen  six  years  ago  that  I  would 
.not  have  recognized  myself.  I  could  not  bear  the  change, 
and  with  a  deep  sigh  for  the  health  and  happiness  of 
w'hich  I  had  been  robbed  I  laid  the  glass  aside.  I  soon 
became  deeply  attached  to  the  "  Sisters."     "  Sister  Beat- 


154  ONE  woman's  life. 

rice,"  or  "Sister  Superior,"  was  a  kind,  motherly  woman,, 
apparently  about  fifty-five  years  of  age.  She  allowed  me. 
many  privileges,  which  again  aroused  the  jealousy  of 
some  of  the  patients  in  my  ward ;  for  a  time  I  was  exposed 
to  their  malicious  tongues.  This  feeling,  however,  soon- 
died  away,  and  I  afterwards  became  quite  a  favorite 
even  with  the  rough  patients.  My  room  was  always  full 
of  patients,  and  I  saw  suffering  in  its  most  distressing 
forms,  some  were  afflicted  with  epilepsy,  others  with. 
asthma,  and  other  distressing  diseases.  It  was  a  ward 
especially  for  the  poor,  and  was  filled  from  the  lowest, 
class  in  Washington,  yet  I  never  saw  the  sweet  "Sisters" 
treat  any  one  with  disrespect  or  unkindness.  While  here 
I  became  acquainted  with  some  nice  ladies  in  private 
rooms,  who  took  an  especial  interest  in  my  sad  history. 
They  seemed  to  desire  my  society,  and  before  I  left  were 
my  friends.  More  "angels  of  mercy"  provided  by 
God  !     How  could  I  ever  have  doubted  Him  ? 

Early  in  December,  1884,  assisted  by  Miss  Nettie- 
McCameron,  a  fair  young  lady  from  North  Carolina,  to- 
whom  my  parents  had  written  in  my  behalf,  I  made 
arrangements  to  return  home,  although  cordially  invited 
by  "  Sister  Beatrice "  to  remain  with  them  during  the 
Christmas  holidays;  but  I  was  anxious  to  see  all  the  loved 
ones,  and  weary  of  being  confined  to  a  sick-room.  With< 
a  heart  full  of  gratitude,  I  bade  the  dear  "Sisters"  and. 
friends  farewell,  and  for  the  first  time  in  six  long,  long^ 
years  I  stood  upon  the  ground,  and,  accompanied  by  a 
friend,  walked  down  a  beautiful  street  near  the  Capitol,, 
no  longer  helpless  and  blind,  but  seeing  and  walking  as 
other  people!  I  counted  the  hours  that  must  intervene- 
before  I  could  look  on  the  faces  of  my  children,  parents^ 


LIGHT    IN    DARKNESS.  155 

brothers  and  friends.  After  examining  the  spot  where 
our  noble  President  had  fallen,  I  entered  a  comfortable 
coach  and  received  a  farewell  kiss  from  my  friend  Miss 
Nettie,  whose  energy  and  loving  care  had  provided  me 
with  everything  necessary  for  my  comfort  and  pleasure. 
My  heart  swelled  with  intense  joy  and  my  pulses  throbbed 
with  excitement  at  the  thought  of  the  great  pleasure 
awaiting  me.  Homeward  bound!  home  again!  the  rattle 
of  the  cars  seemed  to  say.  My  joy  was  too  great  for 
utterance,  and  prayers  and  thanks  for  the  blessings  God 
had  again  bestowed  upon  me  filled  my  heart.  The  hours 
could  not  pass  fast  enough,  so  eager  was  I  to  see  face  to 
face  father,  mother,  home,  children,  and  the  other  dear 
ones. 

The  many  prayers  and  those  which  had  been  made  for 
my  recovery  by  churches  and  friends  were  now  answered, 
and  I  was  returning  home  walking  and  seeing. 

THANKS  TO  PROVIDENCE  HOSPITAL. 

In  our  own  native  land  a  hospital  stands. 

Its  praises  I  faintly  would  speak, 
To  me  it  seeims  graind,  enclosed  in  love's  iDands 

By  the  sisters  of  chardty  meek. 

These  sister©  are  lowly  and  humble  and  holy. 

All  striving  their  God  to  obey, 
They  watch  o'er  the  poorly,  while  dreaming  they  surely 

Can  all  of  their  sufferings  allay. 

Heaven's  blessings  are  resting  on  them  as  they're  testing 

Their  freedom  from  sorrow  and  sin, 
And  God  will  uphold  them  and  angels  enfold  them 

Till  a  heavenly  crown  they  shall  win. 

I- 

My  happiness  lost  on  the  world  tempest-tossed, 
J  Weary  and  heart-sick  with  pain,  .. 


15Q  ONE  woman's  life. 

Providentially  I  came  to  Providence  by  name, 
Where  my  health  I  did  quickly  resaiu. 

In  language  though  weak  my  thoughts  I  would  speaJc, 

My  gratitude  is  without  bounds, 
To  my  nurses  while  blind  and  physicians  so  kind 

And  the  owners  of  Providence  grounds. 


SCENE  ON  THE  ATLANTIC  OCEAN. 
The  moaning  ship  and  waters  seemed  to  bewail  mv  future. 


PART   II. 


CHAPTER   VIIL 


''AFTER    MANY    DAYS 


V 


"Only  thy  restless  heart  keep  still, 
And  wait  in  cheerful  hope;   content 

To   take  what'er  His   gracious  will, 
His  all  discerning  love  hath  sent; 

Nor  doubt,  our  inmost  wants  are  kno'wn 
lb  him  who  choose  us  for  His  own." 


LEFT  Washington  on  the  night  train  and 
sat  with  my  face  pressed  against  the  win- 
dow, peering  into  the  gloom,  through  which 
we  were  flying,  and  thinking  of  the  many 
i<i'<^i^iS^'=^^  changes  that  had  taken  place  since  first  I 
traveled  over  this  road,  a  happy  young  girl  with  a  heart 
full  of  sunshine  and  hope,  while  now  I  was  a  sorrowful 
world-weary  woman,  seeming  to  have  grown  fifty  years 
older  in  the  past  six  years  of  suffering,  which  had  brought 
me  very  near  my  dear  Saviour,  although  they  had  robbed 
me  of  ever}'-  earthly  hope  and  pleasure.  In  some 
mysterious  way  I  had  received  my  sight  without  the 
treatment  of  scientific  oculists;  by  some  unseen  hand  my 
spine  was  being  healed  without  the  support  of  braces  or 
artificial  means,  except  such  simple  remedies  as  I  had 


160  ONE  woman's  life. 

used  from  the  beginning  of  my  illness.  Some  unseen 
influence  had  provided  me  with  friends  and  means  nec- 
essary for  my  comfort  and  recovery.  Even  my  ward- 
robe had  been  replenished  at  a  time  when  I  discovered 
that  I  could  see  and  walk,  but  was  coatless,  hatless^ 
shoeless  and  far  from  friends. 

Would  God  leave  his  work  unfinished  ?  If  he  had 
restored  me  in  answer  to  pra3'^er,  would  he  not  give  me 
those  I  had  prayed  for  six  sad  sorrowing  years  to  be 
spared  for,  my  children?  Yes,  I  believed  he  would.  I 
could  not  feel  it  my  duty  to  again  live  with  Mr.  Rod- 
erick. In  fact,  I  believed  it  would  be  a  sin  under  exist- 
ing circumstances,  for  though  my  physical  condition  was 
greatly  improved,  still  I  was  very  frail  and  my  mental 
faculties  had  become  much  weaker  and  I  felt  unable  to 
endure  unkind  words,  harsh  treatment  or  severe  trials 
and  sorrows.  It  only  lacked  a  few  months  of  being  two 
years  since  I  left  my  home  seemingly  a  hopeless  wreck, 
and  was  carried  on  a  stretcher  over  this  road  with  closed, 
aching  eyes  and  paralyzed  frame,  and  now  I  trembled 
with  intensity  of  feeling  at  thoughts  of  soon  being  per- 
mitted to  look  upon  the  faces  of  my  children  and  other 
loved  ones.  My  own  children  for  whom  I  had  suffered 
and  sacrificed  so  much,  would  they  recognize  me  !  Had 
their  young  hearts  been  influenced  again  against  their 
mother!  Were  they  suffering  and  unhappy?  I  asked 
myself.  My  heart  hungered  for  their  love  and  tender 
caresses.  God  speed  the  moments  until  I  shall  meet 
them. 

My  parents  lived  thirty-five  miles  from  the  railroad 
across  the  Blue  Ridge  Mountains.  They  were  not  ex- 
pecting me   so  soon  and  I  felt  too  weak  and  weary  to 


AFTER   MANY   DAYS.  161 

think  of  undertaking  the  rough  fatiguing  journey  until 
rested  ;  and  as  I  did  not  feel  physically  and  mentally 
stroncf  enouirh  to  meet  those  in  Marion  who  were  un- 
kindly  disposed  toward  me,  I  concluded  to  pass  through 
and  continue  my  way  to  Old  Fort,  where  I  felt  sure  I 
would  receive  a  warm  welcome.  After  traveling  two 
nights  I  arrived  there  just  before  day.  My  friends  were 
not  aware  of  my  coming,  and  I  was  compelled  to  call 
upon  a  stranger  to  show  me  the  way  to  Mrs.  Tremont's. 
house,  Mrs.  Tremont  being  no  other  than  my  old  friend 
Ada. 

Once  more  I  was  walking  through  the  place  where  I 
had  spent  my  childhood  days,  and  had  become  a  trusting 
bride.  Oh!  that  home,  the  connecting  link  of  my  joy- 
ous early  life — my  bright  girlhood  so  soon  blighted  in 
that  fatal  mistake!  Was  it  a  wonder  I  loved  to  return 
to  its  dear  walls  to  dwell  upon  that  happy,  dead  past,  to 
somewhat  feel  I  was  once  that  happy  being  and  call  up 
from  memory's  store  all  the  dear  old  associations!  I 
trembled  at  the  recollections  and  the  knowledge  that  I 
would  soon  look  upon  the  dear  faces  of  old  familiar 
friends,  yet  saddened  by  the  thoughts  that  one  of  the 
loved  members  had  gone  to  her  last  resting  place.  Dear 
Mrs.  McCoy  had  departed  this  life  while  I  was  in  Char- 
lotte, and  Old  Fort  seemed  desolate  without  her.  My 
friends  were  not  up  and  I  waited  several  moments  at  the 
door  before  being  admitted.  In  the  lady  who  greeted 
me,  surrounded  by  small,  pretty  children,  I  recognized 
the  mirthful  girl  I  had  gayly  laughed  and  chatted  with 
years  before.  During  the  week  following  I  was  called 
11 


162  ONE  woman's  life. 

upon  by  all  my  Old  Fort  friends  and  cordially  welcomed 
and  invited  to  remain  with  them. 

The  weather  set  in  cold  and  stormy,  preventing  a 
speedy  return  to  Marion,  where  I  hoped  to  meet  my 
children.  A  card  being  dispatched  to  Mr.  Roderick, 
informed  him  of  my  coming  and  my  inability  to  travel 
over  rocky  roads  in  the  cold,  and  expressing  my 
desire  that  our  children  be  allowed  to  meet  me  in 
Marion.  But  I  was  destined  to  be  cruelly  disappointed 
and  my  heart  grew  faint  and  sick  when  I  received  his 
cold  refusal,  saying  that  if  I  wanted  to  see  his  children  I 
would  have  to  come  home.  I  had  waited  so  long,  how 
could  I  bear  to  return  to  my  parents  without  looking 
upon  my  darhngs'  faces  ?  It  seemed  too  cruel  to  be  de- 
prived of  a  happiness  that  could  have  been  so  easily 
granted. 

Having  received  a  kind  invitation  from  Mrs.  Yonge 
to  pay  her  a  visit  I  determined  to  accept  it,  and  with 
feeling  of  timidity  and  dread  I  entered  the  town  that 
had  been  the  scene  of  my  humiliation.  Leaving  the 
depot  I  walked  slowly  up  the  familiar  streets,  faihng  to 
recognize  the  faces  of  old  acquaintances  whom  I  passed. 
I  entered  the  hotel  to  rest  (where  I  had  found  shelter  on 
leaving  Mr.  Roderick,  and  had  the  pleasure  of  looking 
for  the  first  time  upon  Mrs.  Yonge's  face,  who  had  come 
to  meet  me,  which  was  as  1  fancied  it,  sweet  and  pure. 

My  return  to  Marion  walking  and  seeing  was  a  theme 
of  wonder  and  excitement  and  many  incredulous  people 
would  not  believe  until  they  saw  with  their  own  eyes 
that  I  could  really  see  and  walk.  My  strange  illness 
and  decided  step  I  had  taken  in  leaving  Mr.  Roderick 
had  brought  me  unconsciously  into  public  notice  and  I 


AFTER   MANY   DAYS.  163 

'knew  that  I  was  watched  and  criticised,  which  was  a 
sore  trial  to  my  nature,  especially  when  old  acquaintances 
avoided  me  who  had  been  friendly  previous  to  my  leav- 
ing Mr.  Roderick.  I  felt  and  knew  that  I  was  right  in 
trying  to  save  my  life  for  my  children's  sake,  but  my 
nerves  were  so  shaken  by  the  unkind  remarks  that  were 
continually  floating  through  the  community  that  I  gave 
up  the  thought  of  visiting  my  children,  as  I  could  not 
brave  the  fury  of  Mr.  Roderick  and  his  unfeeling  sisters, 
whom  I  was  sure  to  meet. 

In  answer  to  my  numerous  inquiries  I  was  told  that 
my  children  were  well  and  happy,  and  were  well  cared 
for  and  were  attending  school.  I  wondered  if  all  this 
could  he  true;  but  hearing  the  same  story  from  almost 
every  one,  I  was  only  too  willing  to  believe  it.  It  was 
such  a  relief  to  know  that  my  fears  were  groundless, 
even  though  an  evil  motive  prompted  the  good  deed. 

In  the  suit  that  had  been  entered  upon  my  leaving 
Mr.  Roderick  two  years  ago,  the  judge  gave  me  the 
custody  of  two  of  my  eldest  daughters  for  some  months, 
and  an  alimony  until  the  final  trial  for  all  my  children 
could  be  decided.  When  Mr.  Roderick  knew  the  de- 
cision of  the  court  he  took  the  two  children  given  me 
and  left  the  country,  giving  out  the  report  that  he  had 
taken  them  to  Texas,  but  in  reality  crossed  the  moun- 
tains to  Tennessee.  Into  a  covered  wagon  he  thrust 
them  together  with  a  large  box  into  which  he  would  hide 
them  if  any  one  approached.  Arriving  in  a  small  town 
in  Tennessee,  he  stopped,  still  reserving  the  box  into 
which  he  would  store  the  children  if  he  thought  any 
danger  of  discovery.  Fearing  to  remain  in  town  he 
took  them  into  the  country,  boarding  at  a  farm   in   a 


164  ONE  woman's  life. 

lonely,  secluded  spot.  With  the  story  of  their  heartless- 
mother  forsakincr  them,  he  won  the  sympathy  of  the 
people  and  made  his  way  easy. 

After  the  term  expired  he  returned  with  the  two  chil- 
dren and  again  placed  them  under  the  selfish  care  of  his 
sisters,  where  they  were  at  this  lime. 

I  had  struggled  so  long  for  health  and  was  afraid  my 
nerves  would  receive  some  severe  shock,  and  I  also 
thought  the  extra  sixteen  miles  through  the  mud  and  cold 
in  addition  to  the  tedious  journey  across  the  mountains 
would  again  lay  me  upon  a  sick  bed,  so  I  decided  to  wait 
until  I  had  strength;  listening  to  the  voice  of  reason 
rather  than  the  promptings  of  my  heart,  which  continu- 
ally cried  out  for  little  voices  so  long  hushed  to  me,  for 
little  forms  flitting  before  eyes  less  loving  than  a 
mother's,  for  little  hands  on  others  bestowing  caresses. 

A  familiar  face  was  at  the  door,  a  face  more  haggard 
and  careworn  than  when  I  saw  it  last,  more  than  six 
years  ago,  the  beard  whiter,  longer,  but  the  kind,  tender 
look  unchanged.  My  dear  father!  with  mingled  feel- 
ings of  sorrow  and  happiness  I  greeted  him;  forcing 
back  the  tears  wrung  from  me  by  my  great  disappoint- 
ment at  not  seeing  my  children,  I  prepared  to  return  with 
him. 

Crossing  the  mountain  in  winter  is  anything  but  pleas- 
ant. It  was  now  the  middle  of  January  and  the  muddy 
roads  almost  impassable.  Only  ten  miles  were  gained 
the  first  day;  the  second  day,  which  was  extremely  cold, 
muddy  and  bJowing  snow,  we  reached  the  top  of  the 
Blue  Ridge,  all  the  fine  scenery  through  which  we  passed 
was  entirely  hid  from  my  view  by  a  shawl  that  en- 
veloped head   and   face  for  protection  against  the  bitter 


AFTEK   MANY    DAYS.  165 

nvind  and  flying  snow.  Finding  it  impossible  for  us  to 
■proceed,  father  left  me  in  care  of  hospitable  Mrs. 
AfcDuff,  a  friend  of  my  childhood  who  was  living  on 
the  top  of  the  mountain,  while  he  continued  his  way  to 
Bakersville,  promising  to  send  for  me  as  soon  as  the 
weather  moderated  and  I  became  rested. 

While  here,  my  loved  brother  Harry,  who  was  mar- 
ried and  lived  near,  came  to  see  me.  In  the  tall,  fine 
looking  young  man,  with  a  small,  pretty  woman  clinging 
to  his  arm,  I  failed  to  recognize  my  young  brother,  and 
•we  both  gazed  curiously  at  each  other  after  meeting, 
wondering  at  the  great  change  that  had  taken  place  in  the 
past.  A  few  days  later  Mrs.  McDuff  said  a  young  gentle- 
man wanted  to  see  me.  Bidding  her  ask  him  come  in, 
I  glanced  carelessly  toward  him  as  he  entered  the  room, 
then  eageny,  then  anxiously.  Was  this  Charley?  this 
young  man  the  little  boy  I  had  spent  so  many  hours 
searching  for,  and  at  length  find  engaged  in  some  boyish 
mischief?  Yes,  it  was  he;  and  in  a  moment  I  was  kiss- 
ing him  with  deUghted  surprise.  It  was  hard  to  realize 
that  during  my  six  years  of  blindness  the  two  boys  had 
become  men.  Charley  had  come  for  me ;  and  after  bidding 
Mrs.  McDuff  (who  had  become  deeply  interested  in  my 
affairs)  and  her  family  good-bye,  we  started  home,  over 
rocks  and  hills,  through  mud-holes  and  rivers;  and  just 
as  night  with  its  gloomy  shadows  was  throwing  its  sombre 
mantle  over  mother  earth,  as  if  ashamed  of  the  wicked- 
ness it  beheld,  and  with  a  frown  of  displeasure  was  at- 
tempting to  shield  her  from  the  wrath  to  come,  we  drove 
into  Bakersville,  a  town  lying  at  the  foot  of  Roan  moun- 
tain, surrounded  by  hills,  and  the  county  site  of  Mitchell. 

Not   waiting  for  assistance,  I  climbed  from  the  hack, 


166  ONE  woman's  life. 

which  had  stopped  before  father's  door,  and  hastened  to- 
ward the  house,  where  I  met  a  white-faced,  white-haired^ 
woman — my  mother.     Was  it  possible!     I  was  shocked 
at    the    change    wrought   by    great    sorrow,    which    I 
knew  had  been  suffered  on  my  account.     Poor  mother!' 
Like  myself,  she  had  endured  untold  anguish,  and  was 
a  wreck  of  her  former  self.     Mr.  Roderick  had  once- 
said  that    Dr.  G.,  my    Shelby    physician,    had    advised 
him  to  take  me  away  from  her,  because  she  believed  that 
I  was  suffering,  and  sympathized  with  me.      This  was  his- 
pitiful  excuse  for  removing  me  from  Shelby  when  nigh 
unto  death .     Cruel  people,  they  would  have  deprived  me 
of  the  one  friend   and   the  loving   sympathy    that   sus- 
tained me  through   shadows  dark  and  heavy  that  com-- 
passed  me  upon  every  side.    Oh  God!  how  could  such  in- 
justice have  been  permitted?     Truly  man's  ways  are  past 
finding  out,  and  yet  I  know  that  Thy  hand  has  led  me  and. 
Thy  strength  sustaineth  me. 

I  had  come  home  to  stay,  and  my  parents'  hearts  and 
steps  grew  lighter  and  their  strength  increased  with  new 
hope  and  courage.     All  the  tender  chords  of  my  heart 
were  touched  at  sight  of  the  delight  expressed  on  their- 
care-worn  faces  over  my  return  and  at  the  tender  solici- 
tude for  my  comfort,  while  I   felt  I  owed  them  a  life's 
care    for    the    trouble  I    had    unwillingly  caused  them. 
That    night  I  had    the    pleasure    of    meeting    my  dear 
brother   Bradley  and  his  pretty  brown-eyed  wife.     His- 
health  had  improved,  and  he  had  recently  married  and 
had  started  in  business  for  himself.     Many  friends  called 
soon,  expressing  pleasure  at  my  wonderful  recovery,  as- 
well  as  numbers  from  county  and   town,  reading  in  the 
papers  of  my  return  and  restoration.      Prayers  had  been- 


AFTER   MANY    DAYS.  167 

offered  in  the  churches  in  my  behalf,  and  they  now  gave 
thanks  for  my  safe  return.  When  rested  sufficiently  to 
walk  out,  I  found  that  Bakersville  was  situated  on  the 
banks  of  Cane  Creek,  that  flowed  between  hills  and  lofty 
mountains,  breaking  the  silence  with  its  soft  lullabys.  It 
was  a  queer  looking  place,  with  houses  built  upon  the  hill- 
sides and  the  banks  of  the  creek,  as  if  planted  there  by 
the  force  of  some  cyclone. 

The  many  prayers  I  had  offered  in  regard  to  the  con- 
version of  my  people  had  been  answered.  One  by  one 
they  had  been  brought  into  the  fold,  and  my  brothers, 
were  now  members  of  the  church  of  God,  while  my  pa- 
rents had  become  interested  workers  in  the  Master's 
vineyard.  Churches  were  near  our  home,  so  I  was  en- 
abled to  attend  regularl}'',  and  was  soon  given  a  class  of 
little  girls  in  the  Sabbath-school,  which  I  joined  upon  the 
return  of  warm  weather.  One  day  my  mother  was  sit- 
ting in  her  room,  I  standing  before  the  mirror  arranging 
my  hair.  Mother  remarked  upon  it,  when  the  remem- 
brance of  our  dreams  flashed  upon  us — the  strange  room, 
but  our  old  furniture,  mother  in  the  easy  chair,  and  her 
remark  was  all  just  as  in  our  dreams,  and  we  both  real- 
ized it.  We  felt  God  was  encouraging  us  to  trust.  He 
was  with  us  always  and  would  care  for  his  own.  I  now 
heard  that  Mr.  Roderick  had  changed  his  style  of  dress, 
playing  the  part  of  a  gentleman,  and  was  again  seem- 
ingly a  devoted  Christian,  taking  an  active  part  in  the 
country  church  near  where  he  was  located. 

He  had  left  our  children  with  his  sisters  and  had 
bought  some  property  near  my  father's  old  mill  in  Mitch- 
ell county;  and  had  sworn  that  before  he  would  allow 
me  to  have  any  of  his  children  he  would  spill  every  drop 


168  ONE  woman's  life. 

of  blood  in  his  veins.  He  was  tall,  powerful,  with  mus- 
cles that  stood  out  like  knotted  cords,  and  a  sinewy  body 
denoting  extraordinary  physical  strength.  He  had  been 
more  than  double  my  age  when  I  married  him,  though  I 
had  not  known  it,  and  possessed  an  unconquerable  will. 
Our  children  were  in  his  possession.  He  had  political 
friends,  many  relatives  and  some  means  at  his  command. 
It  seemed  almost  impossible  for  me  ever  to  regain  my 
darlings,  but  I  felt  that  God  was  more  mighty  than  many 
such  powers,  and  could  help  me  in  the  battle  for  right. 
False  reports  were  circulated,  damaging  my  cause. 
My  children  were  being  taught  that  I  had  wantonly  for- 
saken them .  But  I  had  well  learned  the  lesson  of  pa- 
tience. One  by  one  they  had  been  torn  from  my  arms. 
Sorrow  had  been  followed  by  sorrow,  more  bitter  de- 
spair by  deeper  despair,  I  could  not  afford  to  yield  now 
even  though  the  zvorld  was  against  me.  I  remem.bered 
that  I  had  felt  sad  and  depressed  before  my  marriage, 
and  now  wondered  what  strange  influence  Mr.  Roderick 
had  exercised  on  myself  and  all  the  members  of  my 
family,  especially  mother,  who  was  very  sensitive  and 
susceptible  to  outside  influences;  but  then  I  had  often 
heard  him  laugh  and  b(»astingly  say  he  could  make  any 
person  think  and  act  just  as  he  wished  them  to,  his  power 
for  deceiving  was  so  great,  and  I  had  heard  him  talk 
bitterly  of  the  people  who  now  believe  him  a  saint,  so 
that  I  need  not  think  strange  of  the  uncanny  influence  he 
had  thrown  around  me  or  wonder  that  I  feared  him. 

With  the  exception  of  strange,  wild  looks  at  times,  no 
person  had  observed  any  symptoms  of  insanity  in  his  ap- 
pearance, but  I  could  not  believe  that  I  had  been  mistaken, 
and  consulted  several  physicians,  some  of  whom  agreed 


AFTER   MANY   DAYS.  169 

with  me  in  thinking  his  strange  conduct  due  to  insanity, 
while  others  said  an  evil,  wicked  spirit  possessed  him. 
As  I  recovered  from  the  cold,  severe  journey  across  the 
mountain,  that  had  materially  increased  my  physical  suf- 
fering, I  could  no  longer  curb  my  restless  longing  to  see 
my  children.  So,  one  warm,  bright  day  in  May,  feeling 
that  I  could  not  bear  the  unutterable  wretchedness  that 
constantly  forced  from  me  bitter  tears,  accompanied  by 
my  father  I  started  to  see  them .  An  interest  had  been 
manifested  in  my  trouble  by  many  of  the  kind  hearts  in 
Bakersville,  giving  me  com'age  and  strength  to  bear  the 
meeting,  the  thought  of  which  caused  me  to  shake  as 
with  an  ague.  I  had  no  thoughts  for  the  grand  moun- 
tain scenery,  no  thoughts  for  dangers,  but  only  for  those 
I  expected  soon  to  meet.  My  heart  ached  with  anxiety 
and  long  suspense,  for  "hope  deferred  maketh  the  heart 
sick,"  and  I  was  sick  with  long  waiting. 

A  wild,  tumultuous  tempest  was  raging  within  which 
no  calm  could  soothe,  no  tears  reheve.  The  first  day 
we  stopped  at  Mr.  Cox's  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain. 
Mrs.  Cox  informed  me  that  night  that  Mr.  Roderick  and 
his  little  boy  had  remained  with  them  over  night  some 
time  before,  and  had  occupied  the  same  room  I  was  in.  I 
wept  sorely  over  the  spot  where  Earnest's  little  feet  had 
trod,  looking  long  at  the  things  hallowed  by  his  touch, 
and  questioned  her  anxiously  as  to  his  appearance  and 
whether  he  had  spoken  of  his  mother. 

How  slowly  the  hours  passed  through  the  long,  long 
night!  But  all  things  have  an  end  some  time.  So  morn- 
ing came  at  last,  which  would  bring  the  day  with  it,  and, 
oh!  happy  thought,  I  would  see  my  loved  ones  before 
another  nio-ht. 


170  ONE  woman's  life. 

The  day  was  dark  and  dreary,  and  long  before  the 
midday  hour  the  rain  commenced  falling.  Shivering 
from  the  damp  air,  I  drew  my  cloak  more  closely  about 
me  and  shrunk  into  the  corner  of  our  covered  buggy.. 
As  we  passed  through  Marion  father  showed  me  the 
house  Mr.  Roderick  and  I  had  occupied  during  my  blind- 
ness. The  sight  of  the  room  that  had  been  the  scene  of 
my  suffering  filled  my  soul  with  sad  and  bitter  reflec- 
tions. It  was  here  I  had  passed  through  the  fiery  ordeal 
of  leaving  home  and  children;  it  was  here  I  had  lain 
hours,  days,  weeks,  months  in  utter  blindness;  it  was 
here  Stella  or  Earnest  had  sat  by  my  bedside  holding  my 
hand  or  stroking  my  hair;  here  Mr.  Roderick  had  ut- 
tered those  last  cruel,  bitter  words  that  had  driven  me  in- 
despair  from  him  forever;  here  I  had  been  comforted  with 
sympathizing  words  from  my  friends,  and  here  I  had; 
lain  for  hours  sadly  listening  to  the  church  bells,  but  un- 
able to  enter  the  church  portals. 

Now  I  was  walking  and  seeing  and  on  my  way  to  see 
Stella,  Earnest  and  Marie,  whose  faces  I  had  not  looked 
upon  for  nearly  seven  years  ;  on  my  way  to  see  little 
Bertha  and  Celeste,  whose  faces  I  had  never  seen,  and  1 
would  also  see  the  place  where  I  had  suffered  for  five 
wretched  months  ;  see  the  cruel  people  who  had  tor- 
tured me  until  heart  and  flesh  quivered  in  mortal  agony,. 
and  they  were  still  rendering  my  heart  strings  with 
anxiety  for  my  precious  little  ones. 

I  was  determined  to  be  brave  and  not  let  my  enemies 
see  the  pain  they  inflicted;  to  hide  my  tears  and  appear 
indifferent  in  their  presence.  This  required  unnatural 
mental  strain,  so  while  praving  for  strength  to  bear  the 
pain  and  the  pleasure  in  store  we  drove  rapidly  on. 


AFTER   MANY   DAYS.  171 

By  12  o'clock  the  rain  was  falling  in  torrents  and  m 
spite  of  all  father's  efforts  to  protect  me  a  portion  of  my 
body  became  drenched.  Stopping  at  a  farm  house  by 
the  way-side  I  was  helped  from  the  buggy,  as  my  limbs 
were  so  cold  and  cramped  I  could  not  stand  alone. 
Warming  by  a  large  fire  the  good-natured  farmer 
hastened  to  build  upon  our  entrance,  after  a  comfortable 
meal  and  getting  our  garments  and  wraps  dried,  we  pre- 
pared to  start  upon  the  last  eight  miles  of  our  journey.. 

Noticinir  that  the  railroad  ran  in  sight  I  asked  the 
farmer's  wife  if  we  were  near  the  place  where  a  blind 
and  helpless  woman  had  been  carried  nearly  three  years 
ago. 

«'Yes,"  she  cried.  "That  spot,"  pointing  with  her 
finger  to  a  point  on  the  railroad,  "  is  the  very  place  where 
a  large  crowd  of  men  brought  her  from  her  home  and 
Dlaced  her  on  a  hand-car  to  be  rolled  to  Marion.  I  saw 
it  all  from  my  door.*' 

"I  am  that  woman,"  I  said  quietly.  She  looked  at  me 
in  astonishment. 

<'Is  it  possible!"  But  I  was  lost  to  her  other  exclama- 
tions, my  thoughts  wandering  back  to  the  sad  scene  that 
had  taken  place  long  ago,  where  I,  the  chief  actor,  yet  a 
silent,  powerless  one,  was  carried  upon  a  stretcher  under 
dark  curtains,  hoping  against  hope  that  this  last  effort 
might  be  crowned  with  success  and  I  be  permitted  to  re- 
main with  my  dear  little  children,  for  whom  I  would  so 
willingly  have  died. 

Very  soon  we  were  driving  by  the  Nebo  Camp  Ground, 
which  had  for  me  many  pleasant  and  painful  recollections. 
I  had  first  visited  this  place  a  merry,  light-hearted  girl^. 
surrounded  by  gay  and  pleasant  friends  of  both  sexes.  On> 


172  ONE  woman's  lip^e. 

my  second  visit  I  had  been  a  wife  not  quite  a  year.  I 
remembered  that  I  had  then  been  sad  and  melancholy 
without  fully  realizing  the  cause.  On  my  third  visit  I 
was  the  unhappy,  sad-faced  mother  of  a  poor  little  girl 
scarcely  three  months  old.  The  fourth  visit  had  been 
made  when  Stella  was  over  a  year  old  and  shortly  before 
we  moved  to  Shelby.  I  had  basked  that  day  in  the  sun- 
shine of  my  Old  Fort  friends,  whom  I  dearly  loved, 
forgetting  in  their  presence  a  part  of  my  sorrow,  and  in 
•consequence  of  this  thoughtless  act  had  been  kept  awake 
until  nearly  midnight  listening  to  the  moans  and  com- 
plaints of  Mr.  Roderick,  who  loudly  bewailed  the  fate 
that  had  given  him  a  wife  who  could  enjoy  herself  in 
other  society  than  her  husband's.  Thus  a  dark  cloud 
had  been  thrown  upon  m}'^  momentary  pleasure.  Once 
more  I  was  on  the  spot  under  very  different  circum- 
stances; the  mother  of  five  children,  not  one  of  whom  I 
would  recognize  should  I  meet  them  and  whom  I  knew 
■would  not  know  their  own  mother.  In  a  few  days  I 
would  be  twenty-nine  years  old  ;  part  of  these  years 
seemed  a  blank.  I  felt  as  one  in  a  dream,  from  which  I 
vainly  tried  to  awaken,  for  I  could  not  realize  that  I  was 
over  twenty-two,  the  age  I  was  when  J  lost  my  sight, 
and  yet  I  felt  old  ;  old  in  care  and  anxiety,  old  in  pain, 
old  in  sorrow,  old  in  disappointment  and  bitter  expe- 
riences. 

It  was  all  very  strange,  yet  a  sad  reality.  But  where 
are  we?  Father  looked  puzzled,  I  anxious.  By  this 
time  we  should  have  been  passing  through  familiar 
places,  but  all  is  strange  on  this  road.  Yes,  we  both 
concluded  we  had  taken  the  wrong  road.  My  spirit 
sank,  I  was  so  tired  and  cold.  Making  some  inquiries  of  a 


TOi. 


AFTER   MANY   BAYSv  17 

farmer  we  learned  that  we  had  traveled  two  miles  in  the 
wrong  direction  and  would  be  compelled  to  go  back  to 
Nebo  and  take  a  fresh  start,  which  would  make  four 
miles  of  useless  traveling  in  the  mud  and  rain,  and  delay 
the  time  I  had  calculated  upon  meeting  my  children. 
Father  becoming  alarmed  at  my  being  so  long  in  the  rain 
urged  forward  the  tired  horse  and  soon  we  were  back  at 
Nebo  when  we  took  another  road,  which  proved  to  be 
the  right  one. 

In  spite  of  my  discomfort  I  could  not  help  but  admire 
the  beautiful  green  trees,  intermingled  with  wild  flowers 
and  plants  that  lined  the  road  we  were  traveling.  I  had 
loved  the  woods  from  my  childhood  and  found  pleasure 
wandering  beneath  the  sheltering  branches  of  lofty  trees 
or  sitting  within  their  huge  arms  absorbed  in  books  and 
pleasant  reveries  while  hid  from  passers  by.  But  I  must 
not  digress,  as  perhaps  my  readers  feel  something  of  the 
anxiety  that  filled  my  soul  to  meet  my  children.  We 
were  now  passing  Mr.  Sims'  house,  where  I  had  once 
been  a  welcome  visitor,  but  now  they  were  my  enemies^ 
because  I  had  left  Mr.  Roderick. 

Mrs.  Sims  was  standing  in  the  door.  I  wondered  if 
she  knew  me,  but  I  concluded  as  she  did  not  speak  she 
did  not  recognize  us  or  did  not  want  to  speak.  I  would 
like  to  have  asked  her  if  my  children  were  still  with  Mr. 
Roderick's  people,  and  if  they  were  well,  but  as  I  wished 
to  surprise  them  I  concluded  it  w^as  best  not  to  make 
ourselves  known  to  enemies  who  might  send  word  before 
us  of  our  comincf. 

Another  mile  brought  us  within  half  a  mile  of  Mr.  Rod- 
erick's farm,  where  I  had  spent  those  six  years  of  horror 
and  despair.  I  felt  a  strong  desire  to  see  the  place,  but  could 


174  ONE  woman's  life. 

not  take  time  now.  Stopping  at  Mr.  Kelton's  house,  one 
of  our  old  neighbors,  father  borrowed  some  wraps,  as 
mine  were  wet  through,  and  we  still  had  four  miles  of 
rough  road.  I  was  informed  here  that  my  children  were 
still  with  Mr.  Roderick's  sisters.  Relieved  of  the  un- 
easiness I  had  suffered  in  regard  to  these  questions,  I 
^Drepared  to  endure  as  patiently  as  possible  the  rest  of  the 
tedious  journey.  Persons  who  have  never  traveled 
over  the  country  roads  of  Western  Xorth  Carolina 
will  have  but  a  faint  idea  of  the  slow,  wearisome 
lurching  and  wrenching  to  which  a  traveler  is  exposed, 
therefore  they  could  not  sympathize  with  my  weariness. 
The  excitement  caused  by  the  happy  thought  that  it 
could  not  be  long  before  I  would  be  with  my  dear  ones 
set  my  heart  wildly  throbbing,  sending  a  feverish  current 
through  my  veins  and  prevented  my  suffering  with  the 
damp  and  cold  as  I  had  done  all  day.  Two  miles  were 
traveled  over  and  now  there  were  but  two  more,  which 
Jay  through  the  woods. 

Here  two  or  three  roads  confronted  us,  but  finally  we 
decided  the  anxious  question  as  best  we  could  and  con- 
tinued our  way  for  a  mile  or  more,  when  again  we  were 
puzzled  by  the  strangeness  of  surrounding  objects,  so  we 
■concluded  we  must  have  taken  the  wrong  road.  My 
spirit  fell  to  zero.  Surrounded  by  woods,  night  not  far 
away  and  the  rain  still  falling,  it  almost  seemed  as  if  fate 
was  against  my  ever  seeing  my  children  again.  I  could 
not  repress  tears  and  moans  forced  from  me  by  agonizing 
suspense  and  the  pain  I  suffered  in  my  cramped  and 
aching  body. 

Father  tried  to  comfort  me  by  saying  that  he  believed 
that  we   were  right,  but  there  had  been  some  changes 


AFTER   MANY   DAYS.  175 

since  we  were  here.  "See,"  he  said,  "there  is  a  little 
hut  in  the  woods,  you  take  the  reins  while  I  make  some 
inquiries. 

"  Don't  weep,  Edner,"  he  said  upon  returning,  "  v/e 

•  are  right  and  very  near  your  children." 

I  was  weak  to  allow  my  feelings  to  master  me  just  as 
my  long,  passionate  yearnings  were  about  to  be  gratitied. 
It  will  never  do,  O  my  God !  help  me  to  bear  whatever  may 
be  in  store.  Turning  into  the  lane  which  led  to  the  house 
we  found  it  was  crowded  with  limbs  and  bushes,  which 
rendered  it  almost  impassable,  but  we  were  determined 
to  get  through  some  way  and  we  succeeded,  although 
the  wet  limbs  scratched  our  buggy  top  and  shook 
showers  of  water  in  our  laps  and  faces.  I  was  wild  with 
anticipation,  and  strained  my  nerves  to  catch  some  sound 
from  the  house,   now   within   sight,  but  all  was  still  as 

•  death  ;  not  even  the  dogs,  which  had  ever  announced 
the  approach  of  a  stranger,  gave  a  warning  bark.  No 
one  saw  us  enter  the  gate  leading  to  the  house,  all  was 
silent. 

That  my  readers  may  better  understand  my  impressions 
upon  seeing  my  children  I  will  give  a  brief  description  of 
the  place  where  they  now  lived.  Mr.  Roderick's  father 
had  once  been  a  well-to-do  farmer.  Came  of  good 
family  who  claimed  to  be  descendants  of  a  signer  of  the 
Declaration  of  Independence  and  were  of  good  blood. 
His  people  were  of  great  prominence  in  the  State  at  one 
time.  But  misfortune  and  varied  circumstances  had 
brought  them  to  a  low  plane  of  life.  His  father  did  not 
forget  his  earl}'^  training  and  had  naturally  a  kind  heart. 
Once  he  had  come  to  my  bed,  looking  kindly  down  upon 
me,  said  "Edna,  I  am  sorry  to  see  you  suffer  so,  God 


17G  ONE  woman's  life. 

knows  I  would  have  things  different  here  if  I  could,'' 
Poor  old  man  !  Now  he  rests  in  his  grave. 

They  now  owned  a  large  tract  of  poor  ridge  land 
which  is  too  barren  to  produce  sufficent  bread  for  the 
famil}',  consequently  they  are  in  a  state  of  semi-starva- 
tion. All  the  members  of  the  family  are  tall  and  gaunt 
and  generally  hungry  except  when  they  visit  some  of 
their  neighbors  and  stow  away  an  astonishing  supply  of 
food,  which  gives  them  courage  to  take  another  trip  and 
loosens  their  vigorous  tongues  for  a  fresh  bit  of  scandal. 
Three  or  four  hounds  lie  about  their  doors,  so  poor  that 
a  sight  of  their  skeleton  frames  would  cause  a  shudder  to 
pass  over  the  observer.  Their  buildings  consist  of  a 
large  log  house  erected  many  years  ago,  only  two  of 
its  rooms,  sufficient  for  the  family  to  sleep  in,  ever  hav- 
ing been  finished.  The  windows,  being  planked  up  made 
them  dark,  damp  and  gloomy.  A  small  log  hut  daubed 
with  red  clay  stood  near  this  building  which  the  family 
used  to  cook,  eat  and  sleep  in.  This  hut  like  the  other 
buildings  was  cold,  filthy,  and  uncomfortable,  it  having 
two  doors  opposite  each  other  that  were  kept  open  sum- 
mer and  winter  to  admit  light. 

The  family  cooked  their  corn  dodgers  and  greaseless 
salads  by  open  fire  place  and  used  their  cooking  utensils 
for  many  other  purposes.  The  female  members  of  the 
family  worked  hard  with  their  hands  as  well  as  their 
tongues,  picked  berries,  dug  roots,  gathered  herbs  to  sell 
and  carried  grain  upon  their  backs  to  mill  a  distance  of 
two  and  one  half  miles  and  did  all  kinds  of  rough  out- 
door labor  which  prevented  their  taking  proper  care  of 
their  persons  or  house  and  rendered  them  unfit  to  have 
the  care  of  delicate  children. 


AFTER   MANY    DAYS. 


177 


As  father  helped  me  from  the  buggy  I  saw  Harriet's 
tall  form,  clad  in  a  ragged  cotton  frock  standing  before 
the  door  of  the  hut.  "Thar's  your  mother,"  I  heard  her 
say  to  some  one  within.  I  did  not  wait  for  an  invitation 
to  enter,  but  walked  boldly  and  calmly  through  the  open 
door,  my  will  now  having  all  my  feelings  under  subjec- 
tion. 

"Good  evening,"  I  said  quietly,  at  the  same  time  glanc- 
ing around  the  cheerless  room,  when  my  eyes  rested 
upon  a  tall,  thin  child  of  about  ten  summers,  the  face  which 
was  pale,  even  llvad,  was  turned  to  me,  the  flaxen  hair, 
forehead  and  blue  eyes  giving  it  a  slightly  familiar  look 
while  the  bare  limbs  and  feet  were  poorly  hidden  by  a 
soiled  cotton  frock. 

"Is  this  Stella?"  I  asked,  approaching  the  child. 
"Yes  that's  Steller,"  Harriet  replied. 
Clasping  the  little  ragged  form  in  my  arms  1  kissed 
the  pale,  thin  cheeks  repeatedly,  saying  "my  poor  lit- 
tle girl,  are  you  glad  to  see  your  mother  ?"  "Yes'm," 
she  answered  hesitatively,  looking  shy  and  half  smil- 
ing while  I  turned  to  look  for  some  of  my  other  children, 
and  after  giving  a  careless  glance  at  a  small,  ragged,  dirty 
boy  with  a  straw  hat  pulled  far  down  upon  his  ears, 
while  beneath  the  brim  and  through  holes  in  the  crown 
straggling  locks  of  hair  were  visible.  I  asked  for  Earn- 
est. 

"Thar  he  is,"  said  Harriet,  pointing  to  the  dirty  boy 
in  the  chimney  corner. 

That  Earnest!  I  said  in  surprise,  striving  to  force  back 

the  lump  in   my   throat,  which   choked   me   at  sight  of 

Stella,  my  dear  eldest  born,  and  this  forlorn  little  object 

who  they  said  was  my  boy.  1  kissed  him  over  and  over, 

12 


178  ONE  woman's  life. 

stifling  the  pain  in  my  heart  as  best  I  could,  for  these 
people  should  not  have  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  how 
they  trampled  upon  my  breaking  heart,  and  I  knew  that 
the  only  hope  to  gain  my  children  lay  in  m}-  seeming  in- 
■dependence  and  courage.  I  must  be  externally  bold  and 
.resolute,  even  though  my  heart  fainted  within. 

These  people  had  had  everything  their  own  way,  but 
"Ihey  should  never  again  control  my  actions,  I  was  decided 
\ipon  that  point.  Here's  Marie,  said  Harriet,  calling  my 
attention  from  Earnest  to  a  little  figure  that  had  just 
risen  from  a  nap  in  a  rude  cradle  she  had  slept  in,  in  her 
infancy.  She  was  now  watching  me  with  looks  of  won- 
der and  disappointment;  but  I  was  prepared  for  cold 
looks,  and  kissed  her  cheeks,  while  I  softly  smoothed 
her  golden  curls,  clustered  in  tangled  masses  about  her 
round  face.  Like  Stella  she  was  clad  in  a  soiled  cotton 
frock  without  shoes  or  stockings.  No  word  of  welcome 
had  yet  greeted  my  coming,  my  kisses  and  caresses  had 
been  received  passively,  but  had  not  been  returned. 

Not  even  by  Stella  who  was  old  enough  when  I  left  her 
to  have  remembered  me,  and  who  was  always  so  anxious 
for  my  recovery,  saying  that  if  I  could  only  get  well  she 
would  be  so  glad.  "So  glad  I  would  jump  right  over 
the  top  of  the  house,"  she  often  said.  No  childish  eager 
voice  announced  its  joy  over  the  restored  mother.  All 
remained  quiet,  looking  very  solemn  and  a  litde  sullen  I 
thought.  From  what  I  had  heard,  I  had  expected  to  be 
received  coldly,  still  I  was  deeply  wounded  and  all  my 
heart  arose  in  insurrection  against  those,  who,  not  satis- 
fied with  their  past  work,  were  robbing  me  of  the  one 
solace  left,  my  children's  love. 

It  seemed  more  than  I  could  bear  and  I  groaned  in- 


AFTER   MANY   DAYS.       -  179 

wardlv,  while  I  talked  pleasantly  to  Harriet  of  the 
weather  and  other  trifling  matters,  at  the  same  time 
relieving  myself  of  my  wet  wraps  and  bonnet  and 
glancing  occasionally  at  the  solemn  faced  children  still 
watching  me  curiously.  Harriet  and  her  younger  sister 
Jane  who  was  a  simple  minded,  harmless  creature,  became 
very  communicative,  talking  incessantly  of  how  well  and 
happy  the  children  had  been  since  I  left  them,  how  well 
they  had  been  taken  care  of,  how  much  they  thought  of 
them  and  so  forth. 

"Their  looks  belie  your  words"  I  thought,  but  I  said 
pleasantly,  "Indeed  I  am  glad,  but  I  must  go  to  Rachel's 
and  see  Bertha  and  Celeste  before  night." 

"Celeste  is  not  at  home,"  said  Harriet,  "Rachel's 
daughter  Sarah  who  is  married  and  lives  two  miles  from 
here  has  her  at  present,  and  Rachel  will  be  over  with 
Bertha  soon,  so  you  need  not  go." 

"Children,  would  you  like  to  see  what  I  have  brought 
for  you?"  I  said  turning  to  them  and  trying  to  hide  the 
keen  disappointment  I  ieltover  my  baby's  absence.  "Yes 
mar'm."  Then  come  with  me  to  the  other  house,  where 
I  see  they  have  carried  my  things.  They  followed  in 
silence  until  we  were  safe  from  the  sound  of  Harriet's 
voice,  when  Stella  opened  the  conversation  by  saying,  "I 
did  not  know  what  fine  tall  lady  that  was  getting  out  of 
the  buggy,  until  aunt  Harriet  said  it  was  my  mother." 
The  ice  was  broken  and  Stella  and  Marie  chatted  freely 
while  I  helped  father  open  the  large  box  friends  had 
filled  with  presents  for  my  children. 

"Mother,"  suddenly  said  Marie,  "Bertha  says  she  ain't 
goin'  to  love  you." 

"Why,  my  dear?" 


180  ONE  woman's  life. 

"Because  you  went  away  and  stayed  so  long." 
'^  I  wenl  away,  dear,  to  keep  from  being  put  in  the  cold 
ground.     Would  Bertha  not  rather  have  a  live  mother 
than  a  cold  dead  one?" 

"You  talk   mighty  funny/'  said   the  little  lady  looking 
puzzled. 

"Do  I?     Then  I  won't  say  any  more  about  things  you 
cannot  understand.  Look  at  these  pretty  books,  toys  and 
cards  your  little   friends  at  Marion,  Old  Fort  and   Char- 
lotte have  sent  you."     The  children  were  dehghted,  even 
Earnest,  who  had  only   spoken  in  monosyllables  became 
talkative  and  looked  happy.   Poor  children  I  had  perhaps 
mistaken  their  shyness  and  reserve  for  coldness,  I  was 
their  mother,  but  almost  a  stranger  to  them  ;  even  Stella 
could   only    remember    me  as   blind  and  bedridden  and 
very  unlike  the  woman  in  a  long  cloak  she  had  mistaken 
for  a  fine  lady,  and  besides  they    had  been  taught  that  I 
had  wantonly  forsaken   them  and  doubtless  they  thought 
me  cruel  and  heartless,  and  I  dared  not    say    anything 
in  self  defence,  knowing  they  would  be  compelled  to  re- 
peat all  that  passed  my  Hps  after    my    departure,    and 
I  had  yet  no  lawful  authority  to  take  them  away   should 
Mr.  Roderick  forbid  it.     So  I  must  remain  silent,  and 
only  by  my  manners  teach  them  I  loved  them  and  was  not 
heartless.     Night  set  in  dark  and  dreary,  making  it  im- 
possible for  me  to  see  Bertha  that  night.  When  supper  was 
announced  all  repaired  to  the  table,  but  I  scarcely  tasted 
the  food  set  before  me.  The  excitement  of   meeting  my 
children  had  destroyed  my  appetite,  and  the  black,  bitter 
coffee  without  cream   or   sugar    with   the  scanty,  poorly 
prepared  food  not  being  inviting  appetizers.      The  scene 
I  had  expected  to  take  place  upon  my  arrival  was  for  some 


AFTER   MANY   DAYS.  181 

unknown  cause  postponed.  Rachel,  Caroline,  Mr.  Rod- 
erick and  his  brother  William  were  not  present,  and  Har- 
riet doubtless  wished  for  supporters  before  she  attacked 
me.  That  night  I  shared  "Stella's  bed,  and  before  she  re- 
tired I  noticed  she  took  great  pains  to  place  her  clothing 
close  to  mine. 

'1  his  silent  childish  act  betrayed  the  affection  she  felt 
for  me,  which  either  she  was  too  shy  or  too  much  afraid 
of  Harriet  to  express.  After  thanking  my  Heavenly 
Father  for  his  great  mercy  in  permitting  me  to  look  upon 
the  faces  of  my  darlings,  I  fell  into  a  deep  sleep,  from 
which  I  was  aroused  before  day  by  feeling  three  little 
pairs  of  arms  about  my  neck  and  hearing  three  sweet 
voices  calling  "mother,"  mother,  wake  up!  I  felt  as  if  I 
were  in  fairy  land  I  was  so  happy. 

What  did  it  matter  if  they  were  ignorant,  dirty  and  rag- 
ged, they  were  mine,  my  own  and  all  the  world  should 
not  come  between  us!  Harriet  informed  me  before  break- 
fast that  Rachel  had  sent  for  Celeste  and  would  be  over 
soon,  but  I  was  too  anxious  to  wait,  and  asked  her,  she 
being  still  good  natured,  to  let  Stella,  Marie  and  Earnest 
drive  over  to  Rachel's  house  with  us,  which  request  she 
granted.  I  helped  to  prepare  them  for  the  ride.  Stella  and 
Marie's  cotton  frocks  were  replaced  by  clean  calico  ones, 
but  Earnest  did  not  have, anything  to  put  on,  though  he 
allowed  me  to  wash  his  face  and  hands,  which  made  him 
more  presentable. 

In  spite  of  the  rags  I  felt  proud  of  this  patient  little 
fellow,  with  his  beautiful  eyes  so  full  of  deep  feeling* 
while  my  heart  ached  for  the  neglected  state  that  had 
given  his  face  a  sad  and  thoughtful  expression  far  beyond 
his  years. 


182  ONE  woman's  life. 

He  does  not  resemble  his  father^  either  in  features  or 
expression,  neither  is  he  hke  myself  or  my  family. 

"Who  is  he  like  ?"  I  asked  Harriet. 

"Nobody  but  himself,"  she  said,  laughing. 

"There's  Bertha  in  the  yard,"  pointing  to  a  bright- 
looking  child,  about  five  j^ears  old,  who  had  just  entered 
the  gate  and  was  talking  to  Dick,  Rachel's  boy,  a  great 
big,  strapping  fellow,  over  six  feet  in  height.  So  this 
was  the  little  girl  who  declared  she  would  not  love  her 
mother.  I  was  greatly  agitated  at  sight  of  the  child  born 
during  my  blindness,  the  child  who  had  no  remembrance 
of  her  mother,  who  was  now  eyeing  me  suspiciously  with 
large  bright  eyes  shining  from  beneath  the  odd  little  poke 
hat  upon  her  white  head.  Rachel  had  washed  and  put  a 
decent  calico  dress  upon  the  straight  little  form,  making 
her  quite  tidy.  I  walked  slowly  to  her  and  quietly  kissed 
the  pink  lips,  a  pang  going  straight  through  my  heart 
when  she  shrank  timidly  away.  I  was  her  mother,  her 
best  friend  and  yet  a  stranger,  from  whom  she  shrank. 
Once  so  loving,  now  trained  to  doubt.  Appearing  not  to 
notice  her  coldness,  I  re-entered  the  house,  where  she 
soon  followed,  saying  that  Celeste  had  not  come  yet. 

The  buggy  was  at  the  door.  Bertha,  Marie,  Earnest 
and  I  were  helped  into  it,  while  Stella  walked  with 
Harriet  through  the  woods. 

"There's  Celeste,  there's  Celeste,"  cried  Bertha,  point- 
ing to  another  little  figure,  in  Rachel's  open  door,  the 
counterpart  of  her  own.  Another  little  girl,  born  during 
those  terrible  years  of  [suffering  and  the  one  Mr. 
Roderick  called  such  fearful  names,  saying  that  "if 
it  ^wanted  to  die,  let  it  die,  nobody  cared."  She  was 
now  looking  at  me  with  eyes  exactly  like  my  own,  set  in 


AFTER   MANY   DAYS.  183 

a  pale  face.  She  met  me  just  as  the  others  had  done, 
answering  to  the  question  who  I  was:  "It's  my  mother." 
Overcome  by  painful  emotions,  I  sank  into  a  qhair,  pray- 
ing for  strength  to  subdue  the  storm  of  tears  I  would 
freely  indulge  in,  but  for  those  cruel  eyes  watching 
on  every  side.  It  seemed  a  little  singular  that  I  had  seen 
my  eldest  child  first,  then  the  second,  then  the  third  and 
fourth,  and  last  of  all  my  four-year-old  baby. 

After  dinner,  of  which  I  partook  sparingly,  my  appetite 
having  entirely  failed,  Rachel  and  Harriet  were  unable  to 
control  their  wrath  any  longer,  now  my  father  was  absent, 
and  assisted  by  Rachel's  daughter,  Sarah,  they  began  an 
open  tirade  against  me  for  leaving  their  brother  and  for 
bringing  false  charges  against  him,  whom  they  said  had 
ever  humored  me  as  a  baby.  They  all  talked  at  once, 
therefore,  I  remembered  but  little  of  their  conversation, 
but  heard  them  say  that  their  brother  had  left  orders  that 
I  should  not  be  allowed  to  take  any  of  Jiis  children  away, 
and  that  all  the  men  in  Marion  and  thereabout  were 
their  brother's  friends,  and  despised  me  for  daring  to 
walk  so  boldly  through  the  streets  after  openly  accus- 
ing one  of  their  number  of  such  bad  things  as  I  had  Mr. 
Roderick. 

"  I  am  independent  of  the  opinion  of  the  people,"  I  re- 
plied, "and  have  not  done  anything  to  be  ashamed  of.  I 
will  not  be  influenced  by  what  people  say.  These  chil- 
dren belong  to  me  as  well  as  to  Mr.  Roderick,  and  he 
has  no  right  to  keep  them  from  me."  Although  I  talked 
so  independently  I  was  growing  weak  from  excitement 
and  mortal  anguish  and  trembled  so  that  I  dared  not 
trust  myself  to  speak  again,  therefore,  I  remained  quiet 
during  the  rest  of  the  degrading  conversation,  listened  to 


184  ONE  avoman's  life. 

by  all  my  children,  and  I  thought  bitterly  of  the  unfortu- 
nate step  that  had  placed  me  in  the  power  of  this  despic- 
able family,  whose  highest  ambition  in  life  was  to  get 
something  good  to  eat  and  engage  in  some  low  gossip. 
The  fire  burned  lower  now,  onl}^  these  words  ascending 
in  the  blackening  smoke: 

"Brother  Jake  talked  of  sending  these  children  to 
school,  but  we  think  they'll  do  mighty  well  if  they  get 
enough  bread  to  eat.  He  ain't  able  to  educate  them  and 
they'll  do  mighty  well  without  any." 

Well  did  I  know  if  left  in  their  care  they  would  be 
denied  even  the  most  common  education;  denied  re- 
ligious instruction,  deprived  of  all  Christian  influences 
and  raised  to  deceive,  quarrel  and  engage  in  coarse  con- 
versation, which  would  forever  shut  them  out  from 
refined  society  and  a  high  and  noble  life.  How  bitter  the 
thought,  and  oh!  how  powerless  I  was  to  prevent  it. 
What  shall  I  do  ?  What  shall  I  do?  I  asked  myself.  I 
had  neither  strength  nor  means  sufficient  to  steal  them, 
which  I  would  have  felt  justifiable  in  doing;  and  if  I 
resorted  to  the  law  I  knew  I  would  not  receive  justice, 
on  account  of  public  opinion  in  Marion,  where  the  suit 
w^ould  be  tried,  being  in  Mr.  Roderick's  favor.  If  I  won 
the  suit  I  felt  the  judge  might  not  be  willing  to  entrust 
the  children  to  my  care  while  my  health  was  so  delicate. 
Then  I  could  not  bear  the  humiliation  and  the  exposure 
of  my  life's  trials  being  brought  before  the  public  courts. 
The  judge  might  give  over  to  me  one  child  or  two,  but 
I  could  not  leave  even  one,  and  began  revolving  in  my 
mind  the  best  and  surest  plan  to  recover  them,  while 
Rachel  and  Harriet  fumed  over  my  seeming  indifference 
to  their  threats  and  unkind  charges.  A  keen  pang  pierced 


AFTER    MANY    DAYS.  185 

mv  heart  every  time  I  looked  at  Earnest,  for  he  seemed 
more  neglected  than  the  others,  and  looked  so  pitiful.  Mr. 
Roderick  was  making  great  professions  of  love  for  his 
children,  declaring  all  through  the  countr}^  that  this  love 
was  his  motive  in  keeping  them  from  me,  but  I  knew 
belter  than  this.  I  knew  that  his  object  was  to  force  me 
back  to  him,  for  had  I  not  heard  him  say  many  years 
before  that  a  man  could  make  his  wife  do  anything  he 
wished  by  keeping  her  children  from  her.  If  he  loved 
them  why  did  he  leave  them  in  this  wretched  condition 
and  stav  in  the  Mitchell  mountains,  where  I  learned  he 
was  devoting  his  time  to  teaching  other  children,  Stella 
and  Earnest  had  even  forgotten  the  little  prayers  I  had 
taught  them.  Why  were  people  so  blinded  by  his  hypo- 
critical expressions  and  sanctimonious  looks  ?  But  then 
myself  and  family  had  been  deceived  and  doubtless  there 
were  others  as  trusting  as  we  were,  who  failed  to^look 
beneath  the  surface. 

Compelled  to  return  our  horse  and  buggy  we  spent 
but  two  nights  and  then  were  forced  to  leave.  Rachel's 
and  Harriet's  efforts  to  move  me,  having  proven 
futile  they  now  showed  more  respect  and  invited  me  to 
visit  the  children  at  any  time.  I  had  hoped  to  be  able  to 
take  some  of  them  home  with  me,  but  now  saw  this  was 
out  of  the  question,  for  all  the  family  watched  my  every 
movement,  and  tall  Dick  especally  kept  a  watchful  eye 
upon  nie.  I  was  too  weak  from  long  fasting  and  re- 
pressed suffering  to  take  them  forcibly  and  endure  an- 
other scene.  Again  smilingly  I  kissed  my  children's  pale 
faces  and  tried  to  seem  unconcerned  at  the  thoughts  of 
leaving  them.     But   once   safe   from   the  range  of    cold 


186  ONE  woman's  life. 

critical  eyes  I  leaned  my  head  against  the  side  of  the 
buggy  and  wept  unrestrainedly.  The  agony  I  endured 
in  heart  and  mind  gained  complete  mastery  and  I 
longed  to  escape  into  the  woods  and  throw  myself  on  the 
ground  where  none  but  God  could  witness  my  grief,  and 
there  weep  out  my  misery.  There  in  solitude  give  vent 
to  the  passionate  sobs  that  were  shaking  every  nerve  and 
fibre  of  my  being  and  loudly  cry  to  God  not  to  forsake 
me,  but  give  me  my  little  ones.  Smothering  my  grief  as 
best  I  could,  on  account  of  father,  who  seemed  so 
distressed,  we  drove  into  Marion  and  consulted  my 
lawyer,  Col.  Clan,  as  to  the  proper  thing  to  do.  He  said 
I  could  not  take  my  children  until  the  court  gave  them  to 
me  and  then  only  a  part  of  them  he  was  sure  I  would  get. 
But  I  would  not  be  satisfied  to  leave  even  one  of  them 
with  those  people.  M}'  determination  to  forsake  Mr. 
Roderick  and  get  my  children  had  become  known  in 
Marion  and  the  notoriety  and  criticisms  hurt  me  deeply 
for  they  did  not  know  my  side  of  the  story  as  they  did 
his.  He  had  long  talked  his  views  of  the  matter  to  them 
and  given  anything  but  the  ti-ue  state  of  affairs.  Many 
had  thought  I  would  return  to  Mr.  Roderick  at  once  and 
now  censured  me  severely  for  not  doing  so. 

I  shrank  from  all  the  publicity  of  the  affair.  It  was 
so  painful  I  could  scarcely  endure  it.  We  called  at 
Mrs.  Yonge's  house  for  a  few  moments.  Mrs.  Yonge 
spoke  comforting  words,  telling  me  to  take  my  trouble 
to  Jesus,  that  he  was  both  able  and  willing  to  bear  my 
burdens,  if  I  would  only  trust  his  promise.  By  night  we 
reached  the  top  of  the  mountain,  where  I  was  kindly 
cared  for  by  my  friend,  Mrs.  McDuff,    and  the  next  day, 


AFTER   MANY    DAYS.  187 

worn  and  depressed,  we  arrived  in  Bakersville  and  was 
received  by  my  mother,  who  keenly  felt  all  my  sorrow 
and  was  ever  ready  to  sympathize  with  me.  Truly 
there  were  some  gleams  of  sunshine  even  in  my 
darkened  life — my  father's  and  mother's  deep  love  for 
me.  That  night  mother  handed  me  a  letter  that  had 
come  during  my  absence,  which  read  as  follows: 

Mrs.  Edna  Eodeinck. 

"  The  church  in  Marion,  where  your  membership  now 
is,  at  our  last  meeting  took  up  your  case  of  refusing  to 
live  with  your  husband.  On  the  scriptural  ground  there 
is  but  one  cause  for  which  a  husband  or  wife  is  justified 
in  putting  away  the  other,  the  church  instructed  me  to 
notify  you  and  also  to  ask  you  if  you  were  now  willing 
to  live  with  your  husband.  Please  answer  by  next  Sat- 
urday. 

*^  By  order  of  the  church  clerk." 

Cold  comfort  was  this  from  the  church  that  should 
have  been  a  shield  and  refuge  from  persecution.  Not 
even  the  common  terms  of  respect  had  been  used.  I  was 
indignant.  Knowing  the  source  from  which  it  sprang 
and  the  motive  that  influenced  even  the  church  of  God, 
I  sat  down  immediately  and  penned  the  following  words: 

"  Your  letter  of  May  loih  received  and  in  answer  I 
will  say  that  I  positively  refuse  to  live  with  Mr.  Rod- 
erick. I  have  good  and  sufficient  reasons  for  the  course 
I  am  pursuing  and  feel  justified  in  the  sight  of  God.  The 
church  can  act  in  this  matter  as  it  thinks  best.  Close 
communion  with  God  and  great  suffering  has  lifted  me 
above  the  fear  of  anything  man  can  do. 

"Edna  Roderick." 

Perhaps  I  wrote  too  independently,  but  my  heart  was 
sore  and  their  letter  touched  its  tender'  chords  when  I 


188  ONE  woman's  life. 

thought  even  my  church  would  condemn  me  to  a  cruel 
death.  Before  retiring  for  the  night  I  knelt  by  my  bed 
and  lifted  a  fervent  prayer  to  God  to  shovv^  me  the  right 
v/ay  to  gain  my  children,  to  show  me  if  it  was  my  duty  to 
again  Hve  with  Mr.  Roderick,  and  if  not  a  way  might  be 
provided  for  their  restoration  to  my  care.  For  long 
years  I  had  prayed  day  and  night  that  they  might  be 
spared  until  I  could  see  them.  This  prayer  had 
been  answered  and  I  now  prayed  that  they  might  be 
■  spared  until  I  could  gain  power  to  bring  the  cause  in  a 
just  light  before  some  good  Christian  judge,  able  to  dis- 
cern wisely  and  without  prejudice.  I  also  prayed  for 
the  friends  who  had  aided  in  the  recovery  of  my  sight 
and  strength,  and  for  those  who  still  persisted  in  adding 
to  my  load  of  burdens,  that  had  long  since  become  too 
heavy. 

"Too  many  burdens  in  the  load, 
Ani  too  few  helpers  on  the  road." 

"Father,  forgive  them,  for  they  know  not  what  they 

do,"  I  cried.     After  tossing   restlessly   until  midnight  I 

fell  asleep,  while  there  whispered  a  voice,  'twas  the  voice 

of  my  God,  "  I  love  thee,  I   love  thee,  pass  under  the 

rod." 


CHAPTER  IX. 


"NOT  AS  I  WILL." 


"The  way  is  rough,  my  Father;  many  a  thora 
Has  pierced  me!   amd  my  weary  feet  all  tore 
And  bleeding  mark  the  way,  yet  thy  commiand 
Bids  me  press  forward:  Father,  take  my  hand. 

And   through   the  gloom 

Lead  safely  home 

Thy  child. 

"The  throng  is  great,  my  Father;  many  a  doubt 
And  fear  and  danger  compass  me  about 
And  foes  oppress  me  sore,  I  cannot  stand 
Or  go  alone,  Father,  take  my  hand 

And  through  the  throng 

Lead  safe  along 

Thy  child. 

"The  cross  is  heavy.  Father,  I  have  borne' 
It  long  and  still  do  bear  it,  let  my  worn 
And  fainting  spirit  rise  to  tlhait  blest  land 
Where  crowns  are  given,    Father,  take  my  hand 

And  reaching  down 

Lead  to  the  crown 

Thy   child!" 


^AYS  filled  with  unspeakable  anguish  followed 

In  vain  I  tried  to 


the  visit  to  my  children 

cast  off  my  sorrow  by  walking  to  and  fro 
^\  from  room  to  room,  or  in  the  open  air,  where 

cool  breezes  fanned  my  cheek,  but  failed  to 
extinguish  the  fire  in  my  heart.  The  sad,  pale  faces  of 
my  children   looked   forth  from  every  nook  and  corner, 


190  ONE  woman's  life. 

the  ragged  clothing  in  which  I  had  first  seen  them  adding 
to  the  forlorn  picture  want,  distress,  and  neglect.  My 
mind  was  more  disturbed  than  before  meeting  them,  for 
my  visit  had  laid  bare  the  falsehoods  told  by  some  peo- 
ple, that  they  were  well  cared  for;  and  feeling  greatly 
dissatisfied,  I  determined  to  return  to  them  as  soon  as 
possible.  The  fifteenth  of  July  found  me  again  on  my 
way,  with  some  comfortable  clothing  for  presents,  and 
the  following  day  I  trod  upon  ground  made  sacred  by 
my  darlings'  footsteps.  This  was  the  tenth  anniversary 
of  Stella's  birth,  and  I  had  made  great  haste  in  order  to 
spend  the  day  with  her,  but  found  she  and  Marie  absent. 
Accornpanied  by  Bertha  and  Celeste,  who  had  greeted 
me  shyly,  I  walked  over  to  the  dismal  place  where  Earnest 
stayed,  and  there,  to  my  surprise,  1  found  Mr.  Roderick. 
In  the  conversation  that  followed  this  unexpected  meet- 
ing I  learned  that  he  wished  me  to  return,  but  said  if  I 
did  not  it  would  be  useless  for  me  to  make  any  attempt 
to  gain  possession  of  his  children,  and  vowed  to  spill 
every  drop  of  blood  in  his  veins  before  he  would  permit 
it.  My  heart  sank  at  these  words.  It  seemed  impossi- 
ble to  gain  them  in  the  face  of  such  a  powerful  opponent, 
and  yet  how  could  I  give  them  up,  or  accept  the  only 
alternative,  to  live  with  him? 

"All  in  weakness,  all  In  sorrow, 
O  my  &od,  I  come  once  more, 
Lifting  up  the  sad  petition 
Thou  hast  often  heard  before. 
In  the  former  day®  of  diarkness, 
In  the  time  of  need  of  yore!" 

The  next  day  Mr.  Roderick  appered  moody  and  quiet, 
sitting  apart- from  the  rest  and  jealously  watching  me. 


NOT    AS   I   WILL.  191 

Not  gaining  a  response  from  me  when  he  remarked  that 
he  must  return  to  his  "  mountain  home,"  he  called  his  aged 
father  and  sisters  and  began  in  a  loud  voice  to  tell  them  of 
my  misconduct,  as  he  termed  my  coldness  to  him.  His 
rage, encouraged  bytheirsly  remarks,  soon  became  fearful, 
his  voice  being  raised  to  its  highest  pitch.  When  they, 
frightened  by  the  storm  they  had  helped  to  arouse,  after 
striving  to  divert  his  attention  from  myself,  left  the  room, 
while  I  sat  almost  paralyzed,  terrified  at  the  thought  of 
being  left  alone  with  the  demoniacal-looking  being  before 
me.  I  arose  to  follow  them,  when  Mr.  Roderick,  seeing  I 
was  about  to  escape  him,  ran  after  me,  shrieking  from  the 
passion  that  had  for  the  time  dethroned  reason.  The 
presence  of  his  family  prevented  personal  violence;  and 
as  I  left  the  house  and  yard  I  lost  all  self-control,  and 
wept  hysterically  from  excitement  and  the  heavy  cloud 
overshadowing  my  mind  caused  by  the  dreadful  scene 
through  which  I  had  just  passed.  Rachel  and  Harriet 
seemed  slightly  touched  at  sight  of  my  grief,  and  strove 
to  pacify  me  as  best  they  could.  In  a  few  moments  the 
wild  tempest  of  sobs  was  subdued,  and  I  again  faced  the 
future  with  a  sickening  sense  of  inability  to  cope  with 
the  powers  combined  against  me.  Oh!  why  did  not 
God  help  me  in  my  weakness?  I  moaned  in  despair. 
Of  all  his  creatures  I  felt  myself  the  most  forsaken  and 
miserable. 

"The  way  is  long,  my  Father,  and  my  soul 
Longs  for  the  rest  and  quiet  of  the  grave; 
While  yet  I  journey  through  this  weary  land 
Keep  me  from  wandering;  Father,  take  my  hand 

And  in  the  way  to  endless  day 

Lead  safely  on, 

Thy  child." 


192  ONE  woman's  life. 

"The  way  is  dark,  my  Fialher,  cloud  upon  cloud 
Is  gatihenng  thickly  o'er  my  head,  and  loud 
The  thunders  roar  above  me;  yet  see,  I  sitand 
Like  one  bewildered;   Father,  take  my  hand 

And  qu'ick  and  straight 

Lead  to  heaven's  gate 

Thy   child." 

"Not  now  my  child,  a  little  more  rough  tossing, 
A  little  longer  on  the  billow's  foam, 
A  few  more  joumeyings  in  the  desert  darkness, 
And  then  the  sun>shine  of  thy  Father's  home." 

Mr.  Roderick  left  the  morning^  after  this  incident,  leav- 
ing orders  that  Stella  and  Marie  should  not  be  brought 
home  while  I  was  there;  but  from  some  unknown  cause 
his  sisters  now  became  very  kind,  and  sent  for  them  to 
please  me.  While  with  them  I  learned  that  their  and 
Earnest's  food  consisted  at  each  meal  of  a  piece  of  bread 
and  some  kind  of  vegetable  cooked  with  a  scant  allow- 
ance of  rusty  bacon,  of  which  they  were  given  each  apiece 
about  the  size  of  a  thimble  once  in  two  or  three  days. 
Bertha  and  Celeste  fared  somewhat  better,  as  they  were 
given  a  small  allowance  of  milk.  Stella  and  Earnest  were 
compelled  to  work  in  the  field,  carry  grain  upon  their 
backs  to  mill,  and  perform  other  heavy  tasks.  Although 
tortured  by  a  knowledge  of  these  facts,  my  heart 
was  lightened  by  the  certainty  that  I  was  gaining  their 
love,  they  daily  showing  tokens  of  awakening  affection; 
and  my  heart  was  filled  with  gratitude  at  sight  of  the 
many  beautiful  presents  sent  them  during  my  illness  by 
my  kind  and  generous  friends.  After  remaining  with 
my  children  three  weeks,  I  returned  to  Marion  and  spent 
a  few  days  with  Mrs.  Yonge  before  going  home.  While 
with  her  I  was  told  that  the  church  had,  upon  receiving 


NOT    AS   I    WILL.  193 

my  letter,  taken  steps  to  expel  me.  I  was  turned  from 
God's  church  and  left  to  wander  as  best  I  could,  con- 
demned, spurned  by  those  who  could  have  made  my  sor- 
rows so  much  f^asier  to  bear. 

Indeed,  I  could  not  give  up  the  church,  but  continued 
to  attend  services,  and  as  soon  as  in  Bakersville  again  was 
admitted  to  membership  in  another  church.  My  con- 
science acquitted  me  in  what  I  was  doing  for  my  childrens' 
sake.  I  could  not  let  them  grow  up  in  ignorance  and 
sin  under  such  pernicious  influences  as  were  now  thrown 
around  them.  Even  could  my  health  endure  (and  it  could 
not,  as  had  been  tested  several  times),  it  was  impossible 
to  be  happy  with  the  knowledge  that  my  children  must  be 
brought  up  in  ignorance  and  a  useless,  vain  life,  and  my- 
self a  blind,  sick  burden  upon  them,  unable  to  teach  or 
help  them  as  I  should.  All  my  nature  revolted  at  the 
continuance  of  my  miserable,  unhappy  life  with  Mr. 
Roderick,  as  I  knew  him  to  be  at  times  insane  and  my 
life  in  danger  in  his  hands. 

My  blind,  helpless  condition  would  return  as  before.  I 
could  not  again  place  myself  in  the  power  of  one  possessed 
with  a  demoniac  spirit  and  bring  more  misery  and  greater 
ruin  upon  myself  and  children.  Reason  and  prayer 
alone  now  governed  my  every  decision  over  and  above 
every  other  feeling  of  my  heart.  And  the  right  and  en- 
tire performance  of  my  duty  was   the  effort  of  my  life. 

'"Tis  bitter  to  endiu'e  the  wrong 

Which  evil  hands  and  tongues  commit. 
The  bold  encroachments  of  the  strong, 

The  shafts  of  calumny  and  wit, 
The  scornful  beai-ing  of  the  proud; 
The  sneers  and  laughter  of  the  crowd. 
13 


194  ONE  woman's  life, 

"And  harder  still  it  is  to  bear 
The  censure  of  the  good  and  wise 
Who,  ignorant  of  what  you  are, 

Or  blinded  by  the  slanderer's  lies. 
Look  coldly  on,  or  pass  you  by 
In  silence,  with  averted  eye." 

"Preserve  me,  O  God!  for  in  Thee  do  I  put  my  trust. 
Plead  my  cause  with  them  that  strive  with  me.  Save 
me,  for  the  waters  are  coming  into  my  soul.  Turn  Thou 
unto  me,  and  have  mercy  upon  me,  for  I  am  desolate  and 
afflicted,  the  troubles  of  my  heart  are  enlarged.  O 
bring  me  out  of  my  distresses.  My  hfe  is  spent  with  grief, 
and  my  years  with  sighing,  and  Thou  only  art  my  refuge 
in  time  of  trouble." 

The  remainder  of  the  summer  and  autumn  months 
were  spent  in  Bakersville.  I  had  promised  God,  while 
in  Charlotte,  that  if  he  would  heal  me,  I  would  proclaim 
it  to  the  world,  and  I  now  felt'  that  if  I  expected  to  be 
blessed  I  must  not  break  so  sacred  a  vow,  but  with 
strength  given  me  from  above,  write  of  the  loving  care 
that  had  brought   me  thus  far   safely  and  trust  Him  for 

the  future. 

At  the  beginning  of  winter  and  about  tj^e  time  that  my 
parents  left  Bakersville  for  brother  Harry's,  accom- 
panied by  myself,  I  began  the  slow  task  of  writing 
a  biography  of  my  tempestuous  life.  Our  new  home,  a 
small  house  built  in  the  wild  forests  of  Mitchell  county, 
at  the  top  of  the  Blue  Ridge  mountain,  was  lonely  in  the 
extreme.  Buried  amid  wild,  rugged  mountains,  denied 
the  privilege  of  using  my  eyes  but  a  short  time  each  day, 
deprived  of  congenial  associates,  robbed  of  my  children, 
mocked  by  the  past  and  well  aware  that  my  parents' 
useful  days  were  o'er,  that  our  ruined  prospects  could 


NOT    AS    I    WILL.  195 

never.be  retrieved.  Sick  and  feeble,  unable  to  gratify 
the  tastes  I  possessed  so  far  above  my  reach,  can  my 
readers  wonder  that,  upon  the  receipt  of  a  cruel  letter, 
written  by  Rachel,  refusing  to  let  me  ever  visit  my 
children  again,  my  reason  was  nearly  dethroned?  Again 
my  mind  became  darkened  with  the  heavy  gloom  of 
despair,  and  the  third  time  in  my  life  I  doubted  God's 
mercy  and  cherished  an  unforgiving  spirit  towards  those 
who  were  robbingr  me  of  all  that  could  make  life  endur- 
able.  While  brooding  over  my  many  wrongs,  I  became 
mad  enough  to  study  a  way^  to  end  my  miserable  exist- 
ence. My  patience  was  exhausted  and  I  fretted  and 
wept  in  an  agony  of  grief,  my  prayers  coming  only  from 
my  hps  and  not  from  my  heart.  It  seemed  useless  to 
pray  when  God  was  deaf  to  my  entreaties,  my  agony, 
my  tears.  Of  what  use  had  been  all  my  struggles  ?  1 
argued.  Why  had  my  friends  not  left  me  to  die  when 
death  would  have  been  so  sweet?  And  then  I  should 
have  been  spared  the  trial  of  seeing  my  children  grow- 
ing up  in  ignorance,  poverty  and  sin.  Why  had  I  been 
spared  to  suffer  alone,  without  a  home  I  could  call  my 
own,  robbed  of  the  one  treasure  I  so  eagerly  coveted — 
my  children's  love,  isolated  from  kindred,  loving  spirits, 
and  denied  necessary  comforts  ? 

Besides  all  this  were  the  persecutions  and  threats  of 
Mr.  Roderick  and  his  followers,  and  the  great  dangers  to 
which  my  children  were  exposed;  especially  Stella.  Sight, 
strength  and  reason  failed  under  this  continued  strain 
upon  my  nervous  system  and  my  wearied  heart  and 
frame,  and  I  sat  as  one  crushed,  tearless,  hopeless,  prayer- 
less;  my  heart  frozen  within  me  and  the  horrors  of 
insanity  added  to  the   future  of    bhndness  and  helpless- 


196  ONE  woman's  life. 

ness.  "O,  my  God,  why  hast  Thou  forsaken  me  !"  was 
again  my  heart's  cry.  My  work  of  writing  was  dropped, 
as  my  sight  failed. 

A  sudden  change.  Love  for  friends  and  kindred 
seemed  dying,  and  I  rejoiced  over  the  burial  of  trouble- 
some affections  that  had  never  brought  me  anything  but 
pain.  My  heart  was  hardening  under  the  ceaseless 
stroke  of  sorrow's  hammer  and  I  laughed  in  wild  delight. 
My  parents  pitied  me,  bore  with  my  impatience,  my 
weaknesses  and  my  unpleasant  moods,  striving  to  hide  the 
great  fear  arising  in  their  hearts  for  the  reason  of  their 
child,  now  laboring  under  a  cross  too  heavy  to  bear. 

One  dark  night  in  a  paroxyism  of  grief  I  ran  into  the 
wild-woods,  and  throwing  myself  upon  the  cold,  damp 
ground  gave  way  to  passionate  weeping,  the  lonely 
woods  resounding  with  my  sobs  and  cries  of  despair.  I 
know  not  how  long  I  had  lain  there  with  my  face  buried 
in  the  cold  leaves,  unmindful  of  the  poisonous  reptiles 
and  wild  animals  that  infested  those  lonely  mountain 
haunts,  when  I  heard  brother  Harry's  voice  and  saw 
hghts  flashing  through  the  woods.  They  were  calling 
me,  but  I  could  not  answer.  My  whole  being  was  shaken 
by  the  intensity  of  my  grief,  and  the  wild  hope  that  they 
would  not  find  me,  but  leave  me  to  die,  silenced  me.  God 
did  not  intend  this,  and  soon  Harry  and  his  frightened 
wife  were  standing  by,  pleading  with  me,  for  our  mother's 
sake,  to  return  with  them.  Tenderly  Harry  pressed  my 
cold  hand  to  his  cheek,  his  voice  quivering  with  pain  at 
my  distress  as  he  half  carried,  half  led  me  to  my  poor 
mother,  who,  overcome  with  fear  for  my  reason  and 
safety,  was  lying  in  an  almost  fainting  condition  on  her 
bed.       "  Too  many  burdens  in  the    load  and  too    few 


Father,  help  me,  for  my  soul  is' engulfed  ])y  waves  deep  and  pitiless. 


NOT   AS   I    WILL.  199 

helpers  on  the  road."     Father,  help   me,  for  my  soul  is 
engulfed  by  waves  deep  and  pitiless. 

Mother,  ever  ready  with  sympathy  and  love,  after 
talking  over  my  trials,  opened  the  Bible  at  these  words: 
♦'  Fret  not  thyself  because  of  evil-doers,  neither  be  thou 
envious  against  the  workers  of  iniquity.  Rest  in  the 
Lord  and  wait  patiently  for  Him  ;  fret  not  thyself  be- 
cause of  him  who  prospereth  in  his  way,  because  of  the 
man  who  bringeth  wicked  devices  to  pass.  Commit  thy 
way  unto  the  Lord,  trust  also  in  Him  and  he  shall  bring 
it  to  pass."  "Rest  in  the  Lord  and  wait  patiently  for 
Him,"  etc. 

"See,"  said  mother.  ''Edna,  you  will  yet  live  to  pros- 
per and  be  blest.  God  says  so,  and  I  believe  it  more 
than  ever  b^ore.  And  Mr.  Roderick  will  yet  receive 
his  reward." 

Her  words  again  gave  me  fresh  courage.  My  prayer  was 
heard,  and  I  was  awakened  from  the  sad  state  into  which 
I  had  fallen  before  I  became  quite  a  wreck.  Tearless 
and  wretched  I  knelt  at  the  foot  of  the  cross,  imploring 
God's  help,  imploring  Him  for  mercy,  forgiveness,  for 
renewed  strength  and  faith.  Once  more  I  became  a 
rational  being  and  began  life  anew,  with  a  sadder  but 
wiser  heart.  With  one  motivfe,  one  hope,  one  love,  bid- 
ding me  press  forward — my  children.  Oh!  my  children! 
I  was  unable  to  converse  on  any  subject  without  my 
words  and  thoughts  drifting  away  to  them,  forgetful  of 
all  else.  In  company  with  my  parents  I  attended  ser- 
vices held  in  the  small  log  schoolhouse  close  by,  listening 
with  a  sad  heart  to  the  gospel  words  falling  from  the  lips 
of  the  country  clergyman  for  the  benefit  of  his  small 
audience  of  mountaineers. 


200  ONE  woman's  life. 

One  night,  father  being  absent,  mother  and  I  were 
alone  in  the  little  one-room  house  that  had  been  erected 
until  they  could  have  time  to  build.  About  dark  we  saw 
a  large,  burly  man  approaching  the  house,  head  and  chin 
covered  with  an  immense  mass  of  black  hair  and  beard, 
coming  wiili  a  limping  gait  towards  us.  He  walked, 
uninvited,  right  into  the  room  and  seated  himself,  saying 
he  wanted  to  stay  all  night.  "No,  we  cannot  accommo- 
date you,  we  have  no  room.  You  must  try  to  find  other 
shelter."  "That  is  impossible,"  he  said.  "I  cannot  go 
on  my  lame  foot  any  longer.  I  must  and  will  stay." 
We  could  ill  conceal  our  dread  and  fear  of  him,  but  were 
powerless  to  force  him  to  go.  By  this  time  it  was  too 
dark  for  us  to  go  in  search  of  help.  Finding  we  must 
make. the  best  of  a  bad  matter,  we  gave  him  his  supper 
and  prepared  him  a  bed.  Seeing  some  axes  were  in  con- 
venient reach,  we  sat  bv  the  fire  reading  the  Bible,  while 
the  tramp  snored  heavily  upon  a  bed  in  the  far  corner  of 
the  room.  Sometimes  he  would  raise  up  and  watch  us 
closely,  then  turn  to  sleep  again. 

Slowl}^    the    hours    crept   by,    one — two — three,  until 

finally  dawn  dimly  lifted  the  mantle  of  night  and  relieved 

our  anxious  hearts.     Refreshed  by  his  long  sleep,  he  ate 

his    breakfast,  thanked  us   kindly  and  left  us  in  peace. 

"Be  not  forgetful  to  entertain  strangers,"  we  thought, 

as  he   took  his  departure,  so  grateful  that  he  had  not 

molested    us.     This    incident    suggested    the    following 

lines: 

SOMEBODY'S  BOY. 

T'he  battle  cry  is  sounding  loud,  the  bugle  calls  to  arm. 
The  hills  and  dales  are  clouded  o'er,  troops  gather  in  alarm; 
With   winds   are   mingled   sighing  prayers     from   many  a  dying 

brave; 
A  youth,  with  pale  lips  lying  low,  turns,  moaning  o'er  a  na;me. 


NOT    AS   I    WILL.  201 

A  soldier  boy's  dying  call  is  heard  amid  the  roar 

Of  battle  strife;  among  the  slain  he  sinks,  and  breathes  no  more. 

Somebody's  boy,  it  matters  not  if  clad  in  blue  or  gray, 

If  fighting  for  tihe  right  or  wrong,  is  hurried  to  Ms  grave. 

Amid  the  beats  of  drum  and  fife,  his  pillow  but  a  sod. 
With  folded  hands  and  marble  brow,  his  soul  returns  to  God. 
Somebody's  boy  is  resting  v/here  the  lonely  willows  weep, 
Sweet  whispers  float  upon  the  breeze,  and  angels  watch  him  sleep. 

******         *         *         *         **** 
Now  comes  along  the  highway  a  dusty  tramp  forlorn, 
A  tattered  coat  conceals  beneath  a  bent  and  aged  form; 
With  wearied,  hardened  visage,  the  bell  he  faintly  rings; 
The  air  is  rent  with  pitying  notes,  an  angel  softly  sings. 

Upon  this  frozen,  nature  no  love  for  years  has  shown; 
His  life  is  made  of  cruel  words,  and  knows  no  kindly  tone; 
And  could  you  see  into  his  past,  as  a  mother  clasped  her  boy. 
He  then  was  innocent  and  fair,  her  pride,  her  hope,  her  joy. 

She  never  dreamed  her  darling  child  a  weary  tramp  would  be, 
For  o'er  his  tasks  or  youthful  sports  he  laughed  in  hopeful  glee. 
Perhaps  he  sinned,  but   O!  forget,  for  suffering  must  repay. 
And  somebody's  boy  has  now  become  wretched,  old  and  gray. 

*******  i:  9  :f  :i:  :(  V  -f 

Within  a  large  and  gilded  hall  a  revel  wild  is  held. 
The  sounds  of  oath  and  laughter  loud  upon  the  breezes  swell; 
A  man  is  seen  with  bloated  face  come  ree'ling  to  the  streets; 
He  turns  his  fierce  and  lurid  eyes  as  friends  he  loudly  greets^ 

Somebody's  boy  has  fallen,  low;  we  heiar  the  broken,  sob 

Of  angels  who  have  watched  for  years  his  footsteps  turn  from 

God. 
Somebody's  prayers  have  oft  been  made  o'er  him  in  childhood's 

day 
When,  rocked  in  love,  he  knew  no  wrong,  a  smiling  infaat  lay. 

Some  mother's  tears  have  freely  flowed,  and  lonely  vigils  kept; 
Some  mother's  heart  has  often  bled  while  others  coldly  slept. 
Somebody  suffers  for  the  wrong,  and  angels  sadly  weep. 
Whene'er  some  careless,  wayward  son  has  sown  what  he  muat 
reap. 


202  ONE  woman's  life. 

A  scaffold  high  with  spreading  arms  on  yonder  height  we  see, 
Waiting  to  take  its  victim's  life,  exulting  horribly; 
While  zeiphyrs  blow,  birds  hover  o'er  a  soul  in  dire  distress, 
With  troubled  gaze  breaithes  out  a  prayer.    Will  God  attend  and 
bless? 

"What  matter  if  he's  clothed  in  sin,  what  matter  if  he's  wild. 
Guilty,  loathsome?     Remember  that  he  is  somebody's  cMld. 
We  cannot  tell  how  hard  he  strove  to  shun  temptation's  snare. 
How  often  on  his  mother's  breast  lie  wept  in  his  despair; 

How  oft  her  lips  had  softly  pressed  his  dimpled  infant  cheek. 

How  oft  her  hand  in  love  caressed  the  sinless  baby  feet. 

Then,  strangers,  pause  and  listen  well;  so  might  your  own  have 

been. 
But  Christ  can  freely  pardon  all,  though  scarlet  be  his  sin. 

Some^body's  boy  !  The  sweet  refrain  is  breathed  in  accents  mild. 

Somebody's  boy  !  If  bent  and  gray,  if  pure  or  all  defiled. 

Somebody's  boy  !  Soft  bells  repeat  in  sad  and  sweetest  chime 

Somebody's  boy  !  Some  motlher  sighs;  perhaps  he  may  be  mine. 

Becoming  restless  from  the  monotonous  life  I  was  lead- 
ing,  I  determined  to  leav^e  my  brother's  home  and  seek 
my  fortune  in  the  busy  world  for  the  purpose  of  regain- 
ing my  children.  Feeble  and  without  money,  I  started 
forth,  trusting  to  God  to  bless  my  efforts  and  provide  a 
way  for  their  recovery.  Unable  to  procure  a  convey- 
ance to  Bakersville,  where  I  intended  stopping  for  a 
few  weeks,  with  my  brother  Bradley,  I  decided  to  walk, 
and  set  forth,  my  staff  and  satchel  in  hand,  in  com- 
pany  with  my  father,  who  was  now  quite  feeble  from  a 
recent  illness,  my  mother  journeying  along  with  us  for  a 
short  distance.  A  romantic  party  we  presented  on  that 
memorable  day;  my  gray-haired  parents,  each  with  staff 
in  hand,  and  myself  like  some  hunted  creature  (  so  the 
wild,  hungry  look  in  my   eyes  suggested,  that  so  often 


NOT    AS   I    WILL.  203 

distressed  my  mother),  assisting  my  faltering  steps  with 
my  staff,  the  rugged  mountains  covered  with  gorgeous 
honeysuckles  or  the  more  modest  ivy,  the  lonel}^  chirp 
of  some  frightened  squirrel,  or  the  rustling  of  some 
creeping  thing  moving  away  at  our  approach  ;  all  com- 
bining to  fill  our  hearts  with  strange,  lonely  thoughts. 
Only  my  faith  in  God  gave  me  strength  and  courage  for 
the  effort  I  was  putting  forth.  Only  my  love  for  my 
children  imbued  my  heart  with  the  desire  to  surmount 
every  difficulty  and  gain  the  victory  over  enemies  and  ill 
health.  Tenderly  my  mother  kissed  me,  forcing  back 
the  rising  tears,  bidding  me  press  forward,  trust  to  God, 
and  with  his  help  she  felt  sure  I  would  succeed,  in  spite 
of  the  difficulties  now  piled  mountain  high. 

"O'er  my  heart  in  the  days  that  have  flown 
No  love  like  miother-love  ever  has  shone, 
No  other  worship  abides  and  endures, 
Faithiul,  unsielfish  and  patient  like  youirs. 

Backward,  flow  backward,  0  tide  of  years, 
I  am  so  weary  of  toil  and  of  tears, 
Toil  without  recompense,  tears  all  in  vain, 
Take  them  and  give  me  my  childhood  again." 

Several  days  later  I  entered  the  little  town  of  Bakers- 
ville,  wear}^  dusty  and  sore  from  traveling.  I  had  been 
kindly  assisted  on  my  way  by  the  timely  loan  of  a  horse, 
therefore,  suffered  no  serious  inconvenience  from  my 
adventure.  While  with  brother  Bradley,  I  worked  faith- 
fully upon  my  book,  striving  to  finish  it,  but  found  this 
impossible  as  my  eyes  and  brain  refused  to  perform 
their  duty  consequently  my  efforts  must  be  turned 
into  some  other  channel,  and  the  longing  to  see  my 
children  became  overpowering.     So   I  decided  ,to  visit 


204  ONE  woman's  life. 

them  in  spite  of  all  obstacles,  even  too,  if  I  should  be 
compelled  to  walk  the  forty-five  miles  that  separated  them 
from  me.  My  father  and  brothers  were  ignorant  of  my 
plan,  but  some  friends  interceded  and  procured  for  me 
a  comfortable  conveyance.  With  but  one  dollar  in  my 
purse,  I  again  set  forth,  resolved  to  make  one  desperate 
struggle  for  independence  and  my  children ;  with  only  faith 
in  my  one  Master,  my  loving  Saviour,  to  uphold  my  waver- 
ing, uncertain  steps,  which  might  lead  me  again  into  Mr. 
Roderick's  power.  But  I  must  press  onward  and  upward, 
not  allowing  my  feet  to  slip  into  the  many  pitfalls  digged 
for  me  by  my  enemies.  Comforting  words  were  spoken 
by  my  faithful  Bakersville  friends,  and  being  assisted  by 
kind  hands,  I  arrived  in  Marion  fully  persuaded  to  return 
no  more  to  the  mountains,  but  to  call  upon  Masons  for 
protection  and  assistance,  my  father  having  been  a  Master 
Mason  for  many  years.  Contrary  to  my  expectations,  I 
was  very  kindly  received  by  them  in  Marion,  where  I  had 
so  many  bitter  opponents.  My  call  for  protection  for  my 
intended  visit  to  my  children's  home  was  heartily  responded 
to  and  an  elegant  turnout  was  offered  me,  also  the  com- 
pany of  a  Mason  to  protect  my  rights  and  help  in  the 
search  for  my  children,  should  they  not  be  at  home. 
Happily  I  found  them  all  at  home,  and  the  circumstances 
I  had  related  in  regard  to  their  condition  seemed  to  have 
had  the  desired  effect,  for  I  found  them  much  better 
clothed,  a  healthier  color  in  their  once  pale  faces,  and 
looking  quite  happy.  A  burden  was  thus  lifted  from  my 
mind,  but  fell  again  with  a  dreadful  weight,  fur  I  dis- 
covered the  fact  that  their  young  minds  had  again  been 
steeled  against  their  mother,  they  appearing  perfectly  in- 
different   as   to   whether    I    stayed    with   them    or  4iot, 


NOT   AS   I    WILL.  205 

although  I  was  refused  that  pleasure  by  their  cruel 
aunts.  My  heart  seemed  tearing  in  twain  ut  this  unex- 
pected coldness,  and  for  a  few  brief  moments  I  allowed 
the  hot  tears  to  flow  unrestrainedl}^  unmindful  of  cold 
spectators  rejoicing  over  my  grief.  Then  recalhng  my 
presence  of  mind,  I  effectually  crushed  hope  and  love 
into  silence,  leaving  my  children's  presence  with  a  more 
hopeless  wound  in  rny  heart  than  had  ever  been  planted 
there  before.  After  all  my  prayers,  my  sacrifices,  my 
struggles,  my  agony  and  my  tears,  1  had  come  for  my 
reward,  my  children's  love,  and  had  lost.  My  heart  broke 
and  the  pain  has  never  since  left  me.  It  was  more  than  I 
could  bear.  Life  lost  all  its  impetus ;  I  had  nothino-  now 
worth  living  for.  Why  could  I  not  die  ?  No  one  would 
grieve  for  me  but  mother,  and  even  she  would  be  re- 
lieved of  care  and  anxiety  which  was  breaking  her  heart. 
Children,  hope,  and  love,  farewell,  farewell. 

"A  few   more  parting's  here, 
A  few  more  struggles  o'er, 
A  few  more  toils,  a  few  more  tears, 
And.  we  shaill  meet  no  more." 

"Peace,  troubled  soul,  whose  plaintive  moan 
Hath,  taught  each  scene  the  note  of  woe, 

Cease  thy  complaints,  suppress  thy  groans. 
And  let  thy  tears  forget  to  flow. 

Behold  the  precious  balm  is  found 

To  lull  thy  pain  and  heal  thy  wound." 

The  days  I  spent  with  my  friends  in  Marion  were 
passed  in  grief,  confining  me  to  my  room  and  bed  a  por- 
tion of  the  time;  but  I  must  not  remain  a  burden  upon 
my  friends.  Necessity  now  required  exertion  and  forced 
me  .into  activity;  I  must  be  up  and  doing.     Unfavorable 


206  ONE  woman's  life. 

replies  were  received  to  all  my  letters  desiring  a  situation 
suited  to  .my  health  and  strength.  Many  times  while 
with  my  friends  in  Old  Fort,  I  would  yield  in  despair 
and  start  to  return  to  Mr.  Roderick,  but  was  deterred 
by  the  resistance  of  Mrs.  Tremont,  and  letters  from  my 
mother  begging  me  not  to  throw  my  life  away* 

A  letter  from  my  home  stated  that  Mr.  Roderick  had 
fallen  senseless  in  a  fit  of  passion,  had  frothed  at  the 
mouth,  gnashed  his  teeth,  presenting  a  picture  frightful 
to  behold.  Again  I  saw  the  fearful  visions  of  the  past, 
recalling  the  intense  fear  and  suffering  I  had  endured  on 
these  trying  occasions. 

But  my  friend  Ada,  ever  true  and  loyal,  kept  up  my 
courage  and  would  not  let  me  go  back.  "  No  man, 
having  put  his  hand  to  the  plough,  and  looking  back, 
is  fit  for  the  kingdom  of   God." 

Some  of  my  friends  urged  divorce  and  marriage  as  a 
relief  from  my  distressing  circumstances,  and  the  temp- 
tation was  indeed  great,  for  I  felt  the  need  of  a  home  of 
love  and  longed  to  make  and  be  made  happy;  but  know- 
ing that  the  Bible  says:  "Let  not  the  wife  depart  from 
her  husband,  but  if  she  do  depart,  let  her  remain  unmar- 
ried." These  were  Christ's  own  words.  I  would  not 
do  anything  contrary  to  Bible  teaching — nothing  that 
would  endanger  my  hope  of  heaven.  I  had  lost  all  in 
this  life;  now  heaven  was  my  goal  and  the  great  desire 
that  filled  my  heart.  Resolving  that  rather  than  disobey 
one  of  God's  commands,  so  direct  and  decided  as  that,  I 
would  die  in  the  poorhouse  on  a  bed  of  straw,  unloved, 
unknown  and  uncared  for. 

The  temptation  never  again  entered  my  life.  I  put  it 
from  me  and  am  happy  in  my  decision. 


NOT   AS   I   WILL.  207 

Receiving  a  letter  from  Asheville  requesting  me  to 
come  immediately,  as  my  services  were  needed  at  once 
to  superintend  a  certain  part  of  work  in  a  large  estab- 
lishment at  that  place,  I  prepared  to  go. 

When  I  received  the  letter  I  was  unable  to  sit  up,  but 
the  next  day  I  forced  my  self  from  my  bed,  dressed, 
and  bidding  my  friends  adieu,  prepared  to  enter  upon 
my  new  life.  Strange  enough  I  felt  as  we  whirled 
along  the  picturesque  winding  road  crossing  the  Blue 
Ridge  where  I  had  once  experienced  such  strange  ad- 
ventures, my  new  existence,  that  of  maintaining  myself? 
opening  before  me  like  some  hopeless  dream  formed  by 
an  overwrought  brain. 

Late  that  night,  in  company  with  several  married 
ladies  and  gentlemen,  I  reached  my  destination,  and 
while  waiting  in  the  reception  room  to  see  mine  host, 
shed  hot  and  bitter  tears  over  the  dark  past  and  for  the 
hopeless  future.  One  long  hour  passed  in  this  manner, 
wh?n  I  was  aroused  by  the  entrance  of  my  new  em- 
ployer who,  upon  giving  one  brief  glance  at  my  face> 
declared  me  unfit  for  the  place,  saying  that  I  was  too 
frail  and  delicate  for  the  duties  he  required.  I  left  his 
presence  and  once  more  found  myself  sick  and  helpless', 
among  cold  strangers,  poor  and  unknown.  Poor  and 
unknown!  God  pity  those  who  are  poor  and  unknown, 
and  God  pity  those  who  are  proud  and  scornful,  whose 
glory  will  shine  in  this  world  only,  and  whose  riches 
must  be  left  behind  when  they  enter  into  eternity,  worse 
than  poor  and  unknown. 

I  could  no  longer  accept  help  from  friends.  What 
then  was  I  to  do?  Die,  I  could  not  until  God  willed; 
live  I  must,  even  though  living  was  dying  daily.     "  God, 


208  ONE  woman's  life. 

pity  rae,"  my  only  prayer,  trembled  upon  my  lips 
as  I  turned  to  consult  a  physician  regarding  my  eyes. 
"Their  condition  can  be  improved,"  he  said,  "if  you 
can  remain  in  the  hospital  while  they  are  being  treated," 
which  chance  I  eagerly  grasped,  also  thanking  him  for 
his  kindness. 

Friends  from  Old  Fort  now  interested  themselves  in 
my  behalf,  using  their  influence  to  gain  for  me  other 
triends,  making  my  sojourn  among  strangers  much  more 
agreeable  than  I  had  anticipated.  My  health  improved, 
glasses  were  procured  enabling  me  to  see  much  better 
than  before;  and,  assisted  by  Masons  with  pecuniary 
aid,  I  concluded  to  go  to  Charlotte,  the  place  where  I 
had  once  been  received  so  pleasantly. 

Once  more  I  passed  through  the  streets  of  Charlotte 
at  the  hour  of  midnight,  walking  and  seeing,  but  more 
hopeless  than  when  carried  blind  and  helpless  upon  a 
stretcher  to  mv  brother's  door,  I  had  made  the  effort 
and  lost.  * 

With  a  desperate  feeling,  born  of  despair,  I  entered 
my  dead  brother's  door.  I  had  given  my  children  up, 
but  the  effort  had  been  too  great.  My  heart  was 
crushed,  the  pain  in  it  being  so  great  that  at  times  it 
seemed  that  I  must  fall  Hfeless. 

"Though   sori-owfud   tears   must   fall, 
And.  the  heart  to  its  depths  be  riven 
With  the  storms  and  tempests; 

We  need  them  all 
To  render  us  meet  for  Heaven," 

and  doubtless  I  needed  this  lesson  of  patience. 

Mrs.  Wilkinson  and  other  friends  I  had  once  loved, 
who  had  interested  themselves  in  my  behalf,  I  now  had 


NOT    AS   I    WILL.  209 

the  pleasure  of  meeting,  if  pleasure  it  could  be  called 
for  the  sight  of  each  face  recalled  all  the  hope  and  grief, 
the  love  and  despair,  the  suffering  and  waiting,  and  the 
joy  I  had  felt  in  having  their  loving  sympathy  and  tokens 
of  affection.  Often  I  avoided  meeting  them,  the  pain 
being  so  intense  I  could  not  bear  it. 

In  company  with  my  dear  sister  Alice,  I  visited  the 
hospital  where  I  had  received  such  kind  care  that  hope 
had  been  awakened  in  my  heart,  giving  me  courage  for 
renewed  efforts.  A  longing  to  do  something  for  Christ 
seized  me,  and  to  a  few  of  my  faithful  friends  I  imparted 
my  desire.  My  wish  was  granted  and  I  was  given 
charge  of  a  home,  recently  organized  in  Charlotte  for 
my  fallen  sex,  and  I  began  my  labors  with  new  zest 
and  energy,  feeling  the  daily  presence  of  God's  Spirit, 
and  knowing  his  blessing  attended  my  footsteps. 

Again  Charlotte  people  had  opened  their  arms  to  me 
and  bidden  me  ^-God  speed."  Faithful  and  true  my 
friends  of  that  city,  my  regular  attendance  upon  divine 
services,  and  the  daily  occupations  of  the  home  and  city 
mission  work,  at  last  at  work  in  "  his  vineyard,"  gave 
me  peace  and  such  happiness  as  I  had  not  known  for 
years,  notwithstanding  .the  fact  that  my  dear  children 
were  deprived  of  their  mother;  but  hope  bade  me  toil 
and  wait  and  it  would  all  come  even  yet,  and  I  would 
bless  and  be  blessed  with  their  love,  and  teach  and  lead 
them. 

Dr.  Miller  and  Mr.  Cheshire,  friends  of  long  ago;  Dr. 

Fair,  my  pastor,  and   other  clergymen,  did  all  in   their 

power  to  encourage  and  help  me,  while  my  dearly  loved 

friend,  Mrs.  Wilkinson  (of  the  hospital  acquaintances) 

and  many  other  lovely  Christian  women,  strove  in  every 
14 


210  ONE  woman's  life. 

■way  possible  to  cheer  and  brighten  my  Hfe,  and  showed 
the   deepest   sympathy  and  appreciation   for   me  in  my 
work.     1  can  never  forget  those  dear  people  and  always 
have  pleasant  memories  of  the  city  of  Charlotte  and  my 
first  mission  work,  so  dear  to  me.    "My  Father  worketh 
hitherto  and  I  work  "   brought  peace   to  my  soul  and  in 
God's  mercy  saved  my  tottering  mental  powers.     I  was 
brought  back  and   given   the  work  best   suited  to    my 
anxious  heart,  to  know  I  was  doing  some  good  by  living. 
This  enabled  me  to  bear  the  burden  of  the  sorrowful  life 
of  my  dear  children,  though  often  when  listening  to  the 
inspiring  words  of  my  pastor  or  some  other  minister,  I 
would  feel  as  though  I   were  a  "  whited  sepulcher,"  the 
outward  peace  in  my  work  and   friends,  and  within  the 
torturing  thought  of  my  darling  children's  sufferings  and 
our  separation.     I  could  truly  say  with  Paul,  "I  am  cru- 
cified with   Christ,  nevertheless  I  live,   yet    not    I,   but 
Christ  liveth  in  me,  and  the  life  I  now  live  is  by  faith  in 
the  Son  of  God." 

I  had  suffered  too  much  to  recover  immediately  from 
the  sad  effects  of  the  past,  which  I  continually  sought  to 
bury,  that  I  might  consecrate  my  life  entirely  to  God's 
service.  Weak  nature  would  assert  itself,  and  in  spite 
of  my  efforts,  my  hours  of  gloom  and  despondency 
were  many.  Powerless  to  better  the  condition  of  my 
unfortunate  children,  I  tried  to  wait  as  patiently  as  my 
restless  nature  would  allow  for  God's  own  time  for 
answering  prayers  made  in  the  dark,  sad  past.  Regrets 
for  my  mistakes  were  over,  and  I  thank  God  I  no  longer 
desire  to  recall  the  first  fatal  steps  I  had  taken.  God 
knows  best,  has  ordered  all  things  wisely,  and  I  thank 
him  that  he  has  permitted  me  to  suffer  with  his   Son 


NOT    AS    I    WILL.  211 

and  am  still  permitted  to  bear  for  his  dear  sake,  who 
alone  is  pure,  meek  and  lowly.  The  future  is  a  sealed 
book  and  I  thank  God  I  have  not  the  planning  of  it. 

"What  though  the  record  of  lost  and  gone  years 
Be  bright  with,  our  laughter,  or  dark  with  our  tears. 
We  can  make  of  each  sorrow  or  joy  of  the  paist 
A  step  that  will  help  us  to  heaven  at  last." 

With  no  tie  to  bind  me  to  earth,  I  mark  with  feelings 
of  sorrow  and  pity  the  weak  struggles  of  man  for  posi- 
tion, wealth  and  fame.  Mark  the  weak,  proud  sister  as 
she  passes  her  more  unfortunate  sex  with  cold  looks  of 
disdain,  their  hearts  being  wrapped  up  in  the  world's 
pleasures,  glory  and  approval.  With  eyes  of  sorrow  I 
look  from  my  window  upon  the  passing  throng,  who 
will  soon  pass  away  into  eternity,  and  yet  they  rush 
madly  along  in  search  of  more  gain  and  of  the  world's 
applause;  but  know  ye,  O  man,  that  the  hour  will  come 
when  lucre,  pomp,  vain  glory,  friends,  hope  and  life  will 
fade;  where,  then,  is  thy  end? 

"Only  waiting  'till  the  angels  open  wide  the  mystic  gate, 
At  whose  feet  I  long  have  lain;  weary,  poor  and  desolate. 
Even  now  I  think  I  hear  them  and  their  voices  far  away; 
If  they  call  us,  axe  we  waiting,  waiting,  ready  to  obey?" 

God  grant  that  my  waiting  will  not  be  long  and  that 
my  faith  will  grow  brighter  as  I  near  my  journey's  end* 
Father,  forgive  me  for  the  hours  of  despondency  I  have 
allowed  myself  to  indulge  in,  and  enable  me  to  look  up 
with  an  eye  of  faith,  bearing  my  cross  patiently  to  the 
end,  trusting  to  thy  promise,  I  wait. 


1 


212  ONE  woman's  life.  ] 

"The  way  is  dark,  my  cliird,  but  leads  to  light, 
I  would  not  always  have  thee  walk  by  sight. 
My  dealings  now,  thou  canst  not  understand, 
I  meant  it  so,  but  I  will  take  thy  hand, 
And  through  the  night 
Lead  up  to  ligbt. 

My  child. 

T'he  way  is  long,  my  child,  but  it  shall  be 
Not  one  step  longer  than  is  good  for  thee. 
And  thou  shalt  know  at  last  when  thou  shalt  stand 
Safe  at  the  goal,  how  I  did  take  thy  hand, 

And  safe  and  Mest, 

Lead  up  to  rest. 

My  child. 


Tbe  path  is  rough,  my  child,  but  Oh  how  sweet 

Will  be  the  rest  for  weary  pilgrims  meet,  j 

When  thou  shalt  search  the  borders  of  the  land 

To  which  I  lead  thee,  as  I  take  thy  hand,  ] 

And  reaching  down,  ; 

Lead  to  the  crown,  C"^^-' 

My  child."  >      I 


CHAPTER  X. 


RESTING  ON  GOD'S  PROMISES. 


"A  sacred  burden  is  the  life  ye  bear, 
Look  on  it,  lift  it,  bear  it  solemnly; 
Stand  up  and  walk  beneath  it  steadfastly; 
Fail  not  for  sorrow,  falter  not  for  sin 
But  onward,  upward,  'till  the  goal  ye  win.' 


^^^^^^HE  serious  and  prostrating  illness  of  my  dear 
mother  at  this  time  called  me  home.  Leav- 
incr  the  "Home"  in  charge  of  a  party  very 
desirous  of  the  position,  I  hastened  to  my 
mother's  bedside  ;  again  passing  by  my  chil- 


dren without  seeing  them,  Mr.  Roderick  having  forbid- 
den my  coming  and  I  dared  not  face  the  lion  in  his  den. 
I  found  poor  mother  indeed  very  ill  both  in  body  and 
mind,  the  physician  thinking  recovery  impossible,  and  we 
watched  over  what  we  supposed  was  her  death-bed. 
But  her  physical  powers  rallied  ;  not  so  the  mental,  and 
oh,  how  much  worse  than  death  this  was  to  me!  Not 
herself!  Not  my  mother!  But  a  sad,  pitiful  shadow  of 
her  former  self.  Her  life  of  extraordinary  suffering  and 
disappointment  was  too  great  for  human  endurance,  and 
the  cord  of  reason  broke.  Sadly  I  returned  to  my  work, 
feeling  a  natural  death  would  have  been  comfort  com- 
pared with  this  worse  than  death,  this  blank  existence. 
Oh,  the  wretchedness,  the  misery  one  man's  sins  can 


214  ONE  woman's  life. 

cause  the  innocent!  Bitter,  indeed,  the  suffering,  almost 
more  than  human  heart  can  stand! 

Mr.  Roderick's  work  was  nearing  its  end.  The  asy- 
lum to  receive  my  precious  mother,  the  bitterest  of  all 
his  work.  Then  my  darling  children  yet  in  his  power! 
Oh,  how  could  I  endure  it!  My  heart  bled  within  me  as 
I  passed  by  without  being  permitted  to  stop  and  see 
them.  Is  the  author  of  all  this  suffering  responsible  for 
his  acts?  Can  he  be  a  sane  man  and  make  so  many 
lives  miserable?  Yet,  if  responsible,  then  God  pity  him! 
Another  epileptic  fit  had  attacked  him,  I  learned.  These 
fits  must  have  affected  his  mind;  yet  to  the  public  he 
maintained  a  quiet  mien.  In  my  struggle  for  my  children 
am  I  dealing  with  a  maniac  or  a  man  of  reason? 

The  "Home"  in  Charlotte  of  which  I  had  charge,  now 
closed  for  want  of  funds  to  maintain  it,  and  I  spent  sev- 
eral months  in  the  city  with  friends  engaged  in  other 
work,  principally  that  of  having  my  children  placed  in 
good  schools.  For  this  purpose  I  induced  Mr.  Roder- 
ick's friends,  members  of  his  own  church,  to  write  and 
persuade  him  to  let  the  children  be  sent  to  the  schools  I 
had  provided  for  them.  Through  the  kind  influence  and 
help  of  Mrs.  Wilkinson  and  other  friends,  arrangements 
had  been  made  for  them  in  some  of  the  best  schools  in 
North  Carolina,  could  I  gain  them  either  with  their 
father's  consent,  or  by  the  help  of  the  law.  The  latter 
I  could  not  do,  that  is  all  of  them,  and  that  did  not  satis- 
fy me.  So  persuasion  was  the  best  means  I  could  em- 
ploy. Only  in  moments  of  great  weakness  and  despond- 
ency had  I  ever  entertained  the  thought  of  not  rescuing 
them  from  the  wretched  life  of  ignorance,  sin  and  neg- 
lect they  were  forced  to   lead;  even   theu  it  was  not  my 


RESTING    OX    god's    PROMISES.  215 

Avish  to  give  them  up,  but  the  despair  of  weakness,  no 
strength  for  the  struggle,  the  insurmountable  barrier 
that  arose  before  me  and  overshadowed  my  soul  into 
deep  darkness  of  night.  My  strength  at  this  time  was 
overtaxed  in  every  way,  both  in  body  and  in  mind,  trying 
to  save  mone}^  to  support  m^-self  and  assist  my  children, 
and  the  additional  disappointment  and  burden — the  re- 
fusal to  allow  them  to  be  placed  in  the  excellent  schools 
I  had  provided  for  them.  I  felt  myself  again  fast  sink- 
ing into  that  awful  weak  state  of  blindness,  and  helpless- 
ness as  of  old,  despair  for  the  moment  following  fast  upon 
m}'  vanishing  health.  Groaning  in  agony  of  body  and 
mind,  I  lay  upon  a  sick  bed  nearl}'  blind  again,  my  only 
comfort  that  of  pressing  to  my  heart  the  blessed  Bible; 
though  unable  to  read,  I  clung  to  it  as  the  one  comfort, 
the  only  source  from  which  m^^  help  must  come.  God 
knows  best,  and  his  promises  are  sure.  My  one  solace 
was  in  this  faith,  this  lifting  myself  out  of  my  sufferings 
and  away  from  earth,  pleading  as  Job  of  old  for  this  bur- 
den to  be  lifted,  the  tearless  agony  for  my  children;  could 
it  be  removed  until  health  be  restored,  I  could  then  again 
take  up  the  thread  of  life  and  battle  to  the  end.  Then 
for  a  season  it  was  lifted,  and  faith,  strong  faith,  upheld 
my  wavering  spirits.  I  felt  that  God  had  heard  mv 
pleadings  and  would  care  for  my  children  and  save  and 
protect  them  from  their  father,  and  permit  me  to  make  a 
fresh  effort  in  their  behalf.  The  outpouring  of  the  Holy 
Spirit  filled  my  soul  with  unspeakable  bhss. 

"Like  strains  of  music,  soft  and  low, 
That  break  upon  a  troubled  sleep, 
I  hear  the  promise  old  and  new, 
God  will  his  faithful  children  keep 
'In   perfect  peace.' 


216  ONE  woman's  life.  > 

From  out  the  thoughtless,  wreck-strewn  past, 
From  unknown  years  that  silent  wait. 

Amid  earth's  wild   regret   there   comes 
The  promise  with  its  precious  freight, 
'In  perfect  peace.' 

Ahove  the  clash  of  party  strife. 

The  surge  of  life's  unresting  sea, 
Through  sobs  of  pain  and  songs  of  mirth, 

Through  hours  of  toll  it  floats  to  me. 
'In  perfect  peace.' 

It  stills  the  questionings  and  doubts. 
The  nameless  fears  that  throng  the  soul. 

It  speaks  of  love  unchanging,  sure, 
And  evermore  its  echoes  roll; 
'In  perfect  peace.' 

'In  perfect  peace.'    0  loving  Christ! 

"When  falls  death's  twilight  gray  and  cold, 
And  flowers  of  earth  shall  droop  and  fade. 

Keep  thou  thy  children  as  of  old, 
'In  perfect  peace.' 

And  through  the  glad,  eternal  years. 
Beyond  the  blame  and  scorn  of  men. 

The  'hearte  that  served  Thee  here  may  know 
The  rest  that  passeth  human  ken, 
'Thy  perfect  peace.'  " 

were  the  sweet  strains  °  that  floated  through  my  mind 
night  after  night  when  all  was  still  and  all  outward  ap- 
pearances dark  and  drear  as  the  night's  gloom.  The 
soft  echoes  of  these  lines  faintly  sounding  even  in  sleep: 

"In.  perfect  peace, 
God  will  his  faithful  children  keep." 

I  now  resolved  to  return  to  a  hospital  in  the  North  and 
regain  my  health,  but  pleading  letters  from  my  parents 


RESTING    ON    GOD's    PROMISES.  217 

urging  me  to  come  to  them,  saying  they  could  not  bear 
for  me  to  go  so  far  away  and  not  see  them  again,  induced 
me  to  postpone  the  trip  and  return  home.  Listening  to 
their  pleading,  however,  only  prolonged  my  recovery, 
while  reason's  voice  and  my  own  judgment  would  have 
shortened  the  time,  but  they  did  not  know  and  could  not 
bear  for  me  to  leave  them  for  strang-ers,  feelincr  their 
loving  care  would  be  the  best,  and  fearing  that  again  I 
would  be  subjected  to  unkind  treatment  and  suffer  away 
from  home  and  friends. 

Passing  my  children  without  the  gratification  of  the 
sight  of  them,  I  again  crossed  over  the  Blue  Ridge 
mountains — that  grand  and  sublime  scene!  Words  can- 
not paint  its  wild,  magnificent  beauty.  The  inspiring 
sublimity  of  nature's  grandeur!  Ten  miles  from  Marion, 
then  four  miles  ascent  up  the  rugged  picturesque  moun- 
tain made  beautiful,  clothed  in  the  rhythmic  dress  of  the 
sweet  bloom  of  rhododendron,  honeysuckle  and  laurel, 
and  rugged  and  picturesque  by  its  crude  trees  and  rough 
rocks.  Sublime  with  the  awful  voice  of  Nature  in  its 
immensity  of  space  and  mysterious  presence  of  the  un- 
known spirit  of  Nature's  realm.  Nearer  to  God,  nearer 
to  the  spirit  land!  The  soul  soars  above  and  presses 
its  prison  bars  for  flight  with  the  inspirations  that  fill  it. 
Thus  came  the  soothing  comfort  of  the  Great  Spirit  that 
strengthened  me. 

"Nearer   my   G-od   to  Thee, 

Nearer  to  thee. 
E'en  though  it  be  a  cross 
That  raiseth  me." 

Though  rough  and  precipitous  the  road,  a  quiet  peace 
possessed   my  soul,   and   its    dangers   were   passed  un- 


218  ONE  woman's  life. 

heeded.  Crossing  over  the  summit  we  traveled  on  a 
slight  descent  on  to  a  ridge  for  about  ten  miles,  when  we 
arrived  at  my  father's  house,  nestled  among  the  trees 
and  vines  and  surrounded  by  flowers,  while  the  murmur 
of  a  distant  mountain  rill  added  music  to  the  scene.  My 
mother's  condition  was  somewhat  improved  since  I  saw 
her  last.  But  unfortunately  my  own  helpless  suffering 
state  and  the  additional  care  necessarily  given  her  soon 
proved  too  much  for  my  frail  mother,  and  again  she  was 
prostrated  and  her  mind  wavering.  Often  she  would 
sav,  "Don't,  Edna,  don't  look  so!  I  cannot  bear  the 
hunted  look  in  your  eyes!  My  poor,  poor  child!" 
Often  I  would  sit  by  the  window  viewing  the  lovelv 
landscape  and  pour  forth  my  soul  in  sad  song.  But 
mother  could  not  bear  my  sad  voice,  and  I  woidd  wander 
away  to  the  little  mountain  rill  and  watch  the  pure,  clear 
ripples  gurgling  over  its  rock}^  bed,  and  alone  and  un- 
heard my  soul  sought  relief  in  song.  Soon  I  would  be 
again  totally  blind,  and  lonely  and  helpless.  Having 
contracted  malaria  in  Charlotte,  it  developed  into  mala- 
rial fever,  and  now  we  were  both  confined  to  our  beds 
with  fevers.  Pour  heart-broken  father  watched  beside 
us  night  and  day,  tears  often  blinding  him  as  he  strove 
to  alleviate  our  sufferings.  Some  of  the  mountain  people 
were  kind  and  sympathized  wath  me  in  my  efforts  to  pro- 
cure my  children.  My  father  and  brother  Harry  were 
held  in  high  esteem  by  them  ;  they  would  do  anything  to 
help  me  for  their  sakes,  if  not  for  mine.  Brother  Harry 
was  their  magistrate  and  deputy  sheriff,  also  president  of 
the  Farmers'  Alliance.  Thev  were  verv  proud  of  him. 
They  now  showed  their  appreciation  and  friendship  by 
being  willing  to  go  and  steal  my  children  for  me   and 


RESTING    ON    GOd's   PROMISES.  219 

help  me  away  with  them,  proposing  to  go  down  with  me 
in  a  w^agon  and  get  them.  Oh,  I  wish  I  was  well  and 
could  go  for  them.  Only  to  save  them  from  their  awful 
life,  no  matter  what  way  or  means  employed  to  accom- 
plish it,  it  was  a  charity  to  do  it!  But  sick  and  unable 
to  go,  I  lay  there,  picturing  the  covered  wagon,  myself 
and  the  honest-hearted  people  driving  slowly  over  the 
rough  mountain  road,  the  hiding  away  in  the  dark  woods 
near  Mr.  Roderick's,  the  wild  mountain  scenery,"  the 
drear  moonlight,  the  chirping  of  insects  adding  to  the 
awful  ionelmess  and  romantic  situation.  Alas,  alas,  the 
futility  of  human  efforts!  Again  the  trial  of  patience,  of 
w'aiting,  waiting,  longing  to  know!  What  would  be  the 
end! 

"There  are  those  who  go  forth  to  labor, 

Joining  the  world's  great  bands. 
There  are  those  who  walk  but  softly. 
Or  sit  with  folded  hands." 

"And  if  by  the  word  of  the  Master, 

The  task  must  be  laid  aside. 
And  the  joy  of  abundant  service 
By  His  holy  will  be  denied." 

"Oh,  think,  as  the  patient  silence 

Drifts  down  o'er  the  quiet  hours, 
That  the  Master's  will  accepted 

Is  a  cross  enwreathed  with  flowers." 

"And  if  it  be  thine  to  labor. 

Then  do  it  with  all  thy  might. 
But  if  with  thy  pale  hands  folded. 
He  bids  tihee  wait  for  the  night," 

"Look  up,  tihougli  the  swift  tears  gather. 
And  be  glad  that  thy  Lord  commands; 
For  the  sweetest  grace  of  heaven 
May  be  shed  over  folded  hands." 


220  ONE  woman's  life. 

Finding  the  burden  too  heavy  for  father,  brother  Brad- 
ley sent  for  me  to  be  removed  to  his  home  in  Bakersville. 
There  with  good  care  and  physicians,  I  was  soon  able  to 
be  up  again.  When  strong  enough  to  be  out  I  organized 
a  ladies'  prayer-meeting,  anxious  to  be  at  work  in  His 
vineyard  and  feel  that  my  life  was  not  entirely  a  blank. 
As  I  put  my  whole  soul  and  energy  into  the  work,  the 
ladies  seemed  inspired  and  filled  with  love  of  God,  and 
good  was  accomplished.  Together  we  visited  the  pris- 
oners and  others  needing  the  comfort  of  God's  word* 
We  would  read,  sing  and  talk  and  in  this  free  gift  we 
felt  we  received  even  more  than  we  gave,  for  love  was 
reflected  in  our  own  hearts  and  faith  strengthened. 
As  the  burden  for  my  children  had  been  lifted  off,  so 
now  this  burden  too,  of  blindness!  Ill  health  and  my 
mother's  sickness  was  removed  through  prayer  and  faith,, 
and  I  felt  happier  than  I  had  for  many  a  year. 

"My  faith,  looks  up  to  Thee 
Thou  Lamb  of  Calvary, 
Saviour  divine." 

My  physician  now  determined  that  a  skillful  surgical 
operation  was  necessary  for  a  perfect  restoration  to 
health  and  advised  me  to  go  North  for  special  treatment. 
He  and  father's  pastor  gained  me  admittance  into  "Seney 
Hospital,"  Brooklyn,  N.  Y.,  and  with  many  kind  letters 
from  Masons,  clergy  and  friends,  I  started  upon  my 
journey  in  search  of  health,  to  a  large,  strange  city 
with  only  sufficient  means  for  my  transportation  there. 
Mother's  health  rallied  somewhat,  though  barely  out  of 
danger,  when  I  left.  Without  any  further  knowledge  of 
my  children,  still  not  being  permitted  to  see  them,  I 
went  away,  not  knowing  for  how  long,  but  love  for  them 


I  stood  before  the  barred  door  of  a  large,  untiaished  buildino;,  alone 
iu  a  great  city,  night  near  at  hand  and  only  a  small  sum  in 

my  purt-e. 


RESTING    ON   GOD's   PROMISES.  22'S 

and  my  parents  urged  me  to  make  the  effort  to  regain 
my  health  and  seek  the  means  whereby  I  could  obtain 
my  children  through   theft    as    no   other   means   seemed 
effectual,   intending  to  carry  them  away   beyond  their 
father's   reach.     Many,  many  plans   had  formed  in   my 
mind  to  get  possession  of  them,  but  lack   of  means  and 
the  necessary  strength  hindered.     These  must  now    be 
gained,  I  would  have  them,  I  was  determined  upon  that. 
My  journey  was  made  pleasant  by  new  friends,  who  seem- 
ed to  spring  up  all  along  the  way,  and  at  last  I  was  set  down 
in  front  of  an  immense  building  in  the  city  of  Brooklyn. 
Satchel  in  hand,  I  looked  for  an  entrance  to  this  building, 
but  the  front  seemed  to  have  an  unfinished  appearance, 
barred  with  planks.     No  person  responded  to  my  ring. 
My  heart  trembled  with  anxiety,  as  I  turned  away,  won- 
derincr  if  some  mistake  had  been  made  in  the  directions 
and  now  left  me  exhausted  beyond  further  efforts,  night 
near  at  hand,  and  only  a  small  sum  in  my  purse,  alone 
in  a  great  city,  hundreds  of  miles  from  one  familiar  face ! 
Striving    to    collect    my  scattered    thoughts  and  decide 
what  step  to  take,  I  noticed  another  building  near,  where 
I  resolved  to  make  inquiries,  when  to  my  joy  I  found  it 
to  be  the  wing  of  the  hospital,  the  place  where  I  was  ex- 
pected.    After  necessary  delay  and  explanations,  I  was 
sent  upstairs   on   an  elevator    to  a  large   hall  where  I 
rested  upon  a  couch,  watching  and  waiting  further  events. 
Doctors  in  their  long  white  operating-coats  passed  and 
repassed  ;  nurses  passed  to  and  fro  ;  weeping  and  moan- 
ing came  from  distant  rooms;  still  white  forms  were  car- 
ried by  upon  stretchers;  and  thus  I  was  introduced  into 
Seney   Hospital.     Nurses  and  patients   coming  around 
me,  I  heard  that  private  and  free  patients   were  for  the 


224  ONE  woman's  life. 

I 

time  occupying  one  ward,  containing  twenty-five  beds, 
as  private  rooms  were  not  completed.     I  rejoiced  to  hear 
this,  as  I  felt  that  among  the  more  cultured  class  I  would 
find  those  friends  I  could  never  expect  to  find  if  confined 
to  the  ordinary  free  wards  of   city  hospitals.     Among 
others  were  clergymen's  wives,  missionary  workers  occu- 
pying beds  close  beside  my  own,  and  pleasant  intercourse 
sprang  up  between  us.     Yet  the  daily  sights  and  rounds 
were  most  distressing,  and  only  those  who  have  had  ex- 
perience   in    a   surgical    institution    know   of    its  horror 
and  suffering.     Patients  undergoing  all  kinds  of  opera- 
tions and  treatment  constantly  being  rolled  in  and  out  on 
wheeled    couches,   while    distressing   sounds    daily    and 
nightly  harrow  on  heart  and  ear.     Doctors   Pilcher   and 
Bogart  showed  much  interest  in  my  case   and  story  and 
ordered  every  attention  given  me,  prescribing  plenty  of 
quiet,  rest,  and  light,  nutritious  diet,  principally  boiled 
milk.     Many  kind  hearts  beat  beneath  that  roof  in  spite 
of  the  daily  scenes  of  distress  that  might  harden.     I  soon 
found    myself   surrounded    with   kindness,    comfort    and 
friends.     Lovel}''  young  girls  kept  the  room  bright  with 
their  cheerful  presence  and  sweet  flowers.    An  operation 
was  necessary,  so  painful  that  nurses  and  physicians  advis- 
ed an  anesthetic  to  alleviate  the  intense  suffering.      But 
knowing  my  bodily  weakness  and  having  perfect  faith  in 
God  that  He  would  spare  me  for  my  children's  and  pa- 
rents' sake,  I  bravely  refused  the  anesthetic  and  submit- 
ted to  the  operation,  trusting  to  God's  mercy  to  sustain 
me.     For  two  hours,  while  I  lay  dressed  in  an  operating- 
suit,  upon  stretchers,  in  a  room  adjoining  the  surgeons, 
the  apartment  seemed  filled  with  angels  and  Jesus  was 
so  near  I  was  almost  lost  to  the  painful  and  unpleasant 


RESTING    ON    GOD'S    PROMISES.  225 

situation.     In  him  I  found  strength  and, "peace  that  quiet- 
ed all  tremor,  fear,  and  aversion. 

"INTO  THY  HANDS." 

"Into  Thy  hands,  O    Father!     Now  at  last, 

Weary  with  struggling  and  long  unrest, 
Vext  by  remembrances  of  conflicts  past 
And  by  a  host  of  present  cares  oppre'St," 

"I  come  to  Thee  and  cry,   Thy  will  be  done! 

T&ke  thou  the  burden  I  have  borne  too  long; 
Into  Thy  hands,  0  mighty,  loving  One, 

My  weakness  gives  it  all,  for  Thou  art  strong!" 

"For  life — for  death.    I  cannot  see  the  way; 
I  blindly  wander  on  to  meet  the  night; 
The  path  grows  steeper,  and  the  dying  day 
Soon  with  its  shadows  will  shut  out  the  light." 

"Hold  Thou  my  hand,  O  Father!     I  am  tired, 
As  a  young  chdld  that  wearies  of  the  road; 
Amd  the  far  heights  towards  which  I  once  aspired 
Have  lost  the  glory  with  which  erst  they  gtlowed." 

"Take  Thou  my  life  and  mold  it  to  Thy  will; 

Into  Thy  hands  commit  I  all  my  way; 
Fain  would  I  lift  each  cup  that  Thou  dost  fill, 
Nor  from  its  brim  my  pale  lips  ever  stay." 

"Take  Thou  my  life!    I  lay  it  at  Thy  feet; 

And  in  my  death  my  sure  support  be  Thou; 
So  shall  I  sink  to  sluanber  sound  and  sweet, 
And  wake  at  morn  before  Thy  face  to  bow!" 

I  at  length  was  wheeled  into  the  room  occupied  by- 
many  physicians  and  nurses.  They  having  heard  of  my 
strange  request,  one  they  said  that  never  had  been 'made 
there  before,  came  to  see  how  such  pain  could  be  borne, 
and  eyed  me  curiously  and  with  much  interest,  while  my 
15 


226  ONE  woman's  life. 

own  kind  doctors  spoke  in  the  highest  praise  of  my 
bravery,  but  only  the  support  of  the  Holy  Spirit  sus- 
tained the  courage,  and  strength  came  only  from  Him 
and  upheld  me  through  all  the  agony  that  followed,  with- 
out tears  or  complaints.  Placed  in  my  bed  again  every 
attention  was  bestowed  upon  me,  and  though  life  hung 
for  some  weeks  as  by  a  thread,  the  tender  care,  the  lov- 
ing friends,  and  skillful  physicians,  and  sympathy  and 
consolation  from  some  of  Brooklyn's  most  celebrated  di- 
vines at  length  aroused  me  to  new  life  and  hope. 

Later,  recovering  sufficiently,  I  paid  a  visit  to  relatives- 
in  New  England,  just  before  the  death  of  my  favorite 
and  loved  uncle  John,  and  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting 
him  once  more.  Together  we  visited  the  church  grave- 
yard, where  he  showed  me  the  spot  selected  for  him.. 
Oh,  how  soon  to  that  long  last  earthly  home  he  was  laid! 
I  had  not  left  them  long  ere  the  news  of  uncle  John's 
death  followed  me. 

At  Boston  I  had  my  eyes  treated  and  my  general  health 
improved  so  much  that  after  a  year's  sojourn  in  that  ex- 
hilarating climate,  I  felt  myself  quite  a  new  person. 
During  this  time  I  endeavored  to  raise  the  means  to 
assist  my  children  through  school  and  gain  possession  of 
them  in  some  way — by  law  or  stratagem. 

Kneeling  at  the  altar  one  day  I  poured  forth  my  soul 
to  God,  humbly  dwelling  in  this  atmosphere  of  prayer^ 
long,  so  long!  I  started  at  the  low  rich  tones  of  the 
clergyman  saying  (as  if  almost  in  answer  to  my  prayer), 
"  Put  your  trust  in  God  and  He  will  yet  bring  it  to  pass." 
"Turn  ye,  turn  ye  to  the  stronghold,  ye  prisoners  of 
hope.  Even  to-day  do  I  declare  that  I  will  render  double 
unto  thee."     My  eyes  seemed  riveted  upon  the  speaker 


RESTING   ON   GOD's   PROMISES.  227 

and  eagerly  I  drank  in  every  word  that  fell  from  his  lips. 
Oh,  that  sermon!  Never  had  my  soul  been  so  deeply 
stirred,  and  I  went  home  feeling  it  was  good  to  be  there 
indeed!  Several  evenings  later,  calling  upon  a  friend,  I 
was  ushered  into  her  presence,  while  she  was  chatting 
pleasantly  with  some  one  in  the  cool,  dusky  parlor.  As  he 
came  forward  in  response  to  her  introduction,  I  recog- 
nized the  owner  of  that  rich,  deep  voice.  "Rev,  Mr. 
Thornton,"  she  said,  and  I  glanced  up  into  the  penetrat- 
ing eyes. 

The  conversation  touched  lightly  upon  some  cheerful 
commonplace,  then  as  into    deeper  thought  we  plunged, 
I  could  not  but  reaHze  the  depth  of  strength  and  wisdom 
so  unostentatiously  shown.     This   was  the  beginning  of 
a  very  sincere,  pure  and  elevating  friendship.     As  time 
advanced  we  saw  much  of  each  other  and  grew  to  feel 
the  need  of  the  sympathy  and  spiritual  growth  we  de- 
rived in  this  higher  plane,  this  ideal  world  of  ours,  not 
then  realizing  the  dangerous  ground  upon  which  we  were 
wandering.     But  time    revealed     it  to   us  erelong  and 
both  saw  in  a  moment  the  heart   of  the  other,  and  as  he 
was  aware  my  husband  still   lived   and   we  both  knew 
divorced    people    should  not    marry,    not    a    word    was 
spoken.     One  sad   despairing  look  as  soul  gazed   into 
soul  for  one  short  moment.     Oh,  an  eternity  of  life!  of 
hopes !  of  bliss !  of  truth — something  greater  than  this  world 
contains !  One  quick  clasp  of  the  hands  and  Mr.  Thorn- 
ton strode  away  and  vanished  from   my  sight  and  out  of 
my  life.     Each  knew  the  other's  heart  and  ideas  of  right 
and  wrong  and  respected   them.     Discovering  the  truth 
only  one  course  was  left — immediate  and  final  departure. 
Humbly  I  knelt  at  the  throne  of  grace,  praying  God  to 


228  ONE  woman's  life. 

help  me  through  this  temptation  also.  Save  me  from 
myself!  Break  every  barrier  down  and  let  me  worship 
Thee  only!  Long  and  often  I  sought  strength  from  this 
trial,  and  it  at  last  came  and  with  it  peace.  Consecrate 
myself  entirely,  perfectly  to  Thee,  O  God! 

I  now  determined  to  return  to  North  Carolina  and 
visit  my  children  and  make  a  desperate  effort  in  their 
behalf.  The  means  I  hoped  to  raise  for  the  purpose  was 
a  failure.  If  there  was  nothing  I  could  do  for  them*;  if 
their  condition  was  improved  and  they  did  not  care  for 
their  own  mother,  then  if  God  did  not  intend  me  to  have 
them  perhaps  He  would  let  me  devote  my  life  to  Him  in 
missionary  work. 

Leaving  relations  in  Portland,  Maine,  where  I  was 
visiting,  I  again  turned  my  face  homeward.  In  order  to 
save  means  for  my  children  I  procured  a  cheap  rate  on 
a  small  steamer.  I  was  put  in  care  of  the  captain,  who 
was  very  kind  and  gentlemanly.  But  the  voyage  was 
exceedingly  rough.  Indeed  the  roughest,  the  captain 
said,  that  he  had  ever  known  on  those  Wnters.  A  gale 
set  in  and  stormed  furiously.  The  boat  pitched,  groaned 
and  tossed,  seeming  a  premonition  of  the  stormy  life  yet 
in  store  for  me.  The  moaning  ship  and  waters  bewailed 
my  future. 

^^  "He  who  haith  set  thee  in  the  race 

"*  Will  speed  thee  to  the  end." 

So  I  trusted  and  felt  no  fear,  but  the  seasickness  was  so 
awful  and  I  not  very  strong,  that  my  Hfe  was  despaired 
of  by  my  faithful  watchers.  Praying  in  my  more  quiet 
moments  that  God  would  spare  me  for  my  children,  I 
offered  a  vow  that  if  He  would  mercifully  restore  me  I 


RESTING    ON    GOd's    PROMISES.  229 

would  again  take  up  the  work  of  my  life — that  of  writing 
a  biography  of  it,  and  show  to  the  world  the  many  great 
works  of  faith  and  answers  to  prayers,  that  it  might 
prove  to  others  God's  great  love  to  mankind  and  how 
truly  He  will  hear  and  answer  the  prayer  of  faith  and 
love.  I  believed  that  he  had  restored  me  thus  far  and 
would  further  my  work.  I  would  not  doubt  and  no 
fear  entered  my  heart.  "•  He  leadeth  me,"  and  I  know 
in  whom  my  trust  is  placed.  He  will  yet  bring  it  to  pass 
and  my  hfe  will  yet  prove  a  light  and  blessing  to  others. 

Next  day  the  captain  kindly  invited  me  up  to  the  pilot 
house,  as  I  happened  to  be  the  only  lady  passenger.  He 
was  very  entertaining  with  his  stories  of  his  eventful  life; 
of  many  hair-breadth  escapes  and  thrilling  experiences. 
Grand  indeed  was  the  magnificent  view  spread  out  about 
me.  Words  cannot  fitly  describe  its  wonderful  sublim- 
ity. The  vast  expanse  of  water,  the  immensity  of  space, 
bound  only  by  sky  and  water,  inspires  one's  soul  and 
hfts  us  above  the  earth.  Arriving  in  New  York  at  night 
the  brilHantly  lighted  steamers  and  white  sails  made  an 
attractive  picture.  I  spent  a  month  in  New  York,  and, 
Brooklyn  amongst  friends. 

At  Dr.  Simpson's  "  Faith  Home"  I  stopped  about  two 
weeks — a  period  of  most  delightful  soul-inspiring  growth. 
This  Home  was  filled  with  spiritual-minded  people.  The 
greatest  faith  and  love  to  God  was  evident  in  all  their 
daily  life.  This  association  and  strengthening  of  faith 
elevated  me  very  much  and  well  prepared  me  for  future 
trials.  Daily  services  in  the  building  and  constant  asso- 
ciation with  Christians  of  such  strong  faith  gave  me  a 
spiritual  growth  I  had  not  yet  known.  Many  were 
healed  of  diseases  and  all  seemed  to  breathe  an  atmos- 


230  ONE  woman's  life. 

phere  of  purity  and  peace.  Their  faith  was  not  without 
works.  Almost  a  daily  round  of  charity  and  new  fields 
continually  sought.  Truly  "My  Father  worketh  hitherto 
and  I  work"  seemed  their  motto. 

Mrs.  Whittermore  was  the  founder  of  the  "Door  of 
Hope,"  another  great  and  good  institution.  Here  was 
an  example  of  great  faith  and  great  works  also.  Into 
the  lowly  houses  she  would  go,  seeking  to  save.  Dressed 
as  a  working  woman  would,  in  cotton  dress,  apron  and 
bonnet,  she  made  herself,  for  the  time  being,  "  one  of 
them,"  came  to  them  lowly,  and  in  full  sympathy  and 
with  prayers,  and  of  course  won  many  souls  to  Christ. 
She  showed  me  the  dress  she  wore  and  gave  me  many  in- 
teresting accounts  of  her  attempts  to  save  souls  in  the 
slums  of  that  great  city.  Oh,  how  I  longed  to  give  my 
life  to  missionary  work.  First  to  save  the  souls  of  my 
dear  children  and  then — "Go  ye  into  all  the  world."  Oh, 
indeed  I  would  be  happy! 

Homeward  bound  we  arrived  in  Richmond.  Here  I 
met  at  prayer-meeting  my  kind  pastor.  Dr.  Fair,  who 
gave  me  a  hearty  greeting  and  welcome  to  his  church. 
The  remainder  of  the  journey  home  was  brightened  by 
pleasant  companions,  among  them  General  Baringer,  a 
member  of  my  church  in  Charlotte,  N.  C,  who  very 
kindly  offered  to  assist  in  my  efforts  to  educate  my  chil- 
dren ;  also  my  Brooklyn  friends  had  offered  to  help  me 
if  I  would  secure  them  and  bring  them  North.  Doors 
seemed  opened,  ways  v/ere  made  for  the  success  of  the 
work  before  me. 

"Yet  this  on©  thing  I  learned  to  know 
Each  day  more  surely  as  I  go, 


RESTING    ON    GOD's    PROMISES.  231 

That  doors  are  opened,  ways  are  made, 
Burdens  are  lifted  or  are  laid 
By  some  gi'eat  law  unseen  and  still 
Unfathomed  purpose  to  fulfill 
Not  as  I  will." 

The  reports  that  my  children  were  ^'doing  well"  and 
were  being  well  cared  for,  were  corroborated  by  the  peo- 
ple of  Marion.  So  I  was  led  to  believe  that  my  fears  were 
groundless  and  that  they  were  in  kind  hands  and  receiv- 
ing good  Christian  training  and  an  education.  Often 
when  I  heard  no  ill  of  Mr.  Roderick,  mv  whole  life  with 
him  seemed  a  hideous  dream,  and  I  would  really  question 
myself  if  it  could  be  true  and  not  an  awful  creation  of  an 
•excited  imagination.  In  my  heart,  oh,  how  I  wished  it 
was  only  a  dream  and  now  forever  gone!  Although 
some  claimed  the  children  were  all  right,  yet  none  were 
willing  to  accompany  me  into  the  presence  of  Mr.  Rode- 
rick, even  advising  me  not  to  go.  So  alone  I  must  ven- 
ture once  more  into  that  dreaded  presence  for  my  children 
iind  their  benefit.  Four  long  years  I  had  been  away 
from  them  trying  to  regain  my  eyesight  and  restore  my 
feeble  health.  Now  that  God  had  blessed  me  with  re- 
newed strength  and  I  had  given  myself  to  him  and  en- 
tered the  work  for  whxh  I  felt  my  restoration  had  been 
granted — my  life-work  to  secure  and  educate  my  chil- 
dren and  write  this  book — I  would  go—  go  to  them,  see 
Mr.  Roderick  and  urge  him  to  let  the  children  be  put 
into  schools.  Perhaps  he  had  changed  and  would  be  in- 
fluenced for  their  good.  Arriving  at  Rachel's  about  dark, 
1  staid  all  night.  Bertha  and  Celeste  were  there.  But 
not  the  loving  little  children  I  had  left.  They  did  not 
seem  to    know  me,  stood  away  off    and  treated  me  with 


232  ONE  woman's  life. 

indifference,  did  not  care  anything  for  me  at  all.  Ten 
and  eleven  years  respectively  were'they  now,  but  they 
had  been  trained  to  forget  and  despise  their  mother. 

Early  next  morning  we  three  started  for  Mr.  Roderick's 
home  to  see  the  other  three  children.  Mr.  Roderick 
was  away,  and  Stella,  Earnest  and  Marie  received  me 
about  as  indifferently  as  Bertha  and  Celeste  had  done.  I 
was  shocked  at  their  appearance  and  wondered  how  peo- 
ple could  say  they  were  "doing  well."  Oh!  I  never  saw 
such  a  pitiful  sight.  Dirty,  ragged,  ignorant  little  things! 
Poor  Stella,  the  oldest,  I  will  mention  particularly,  as  her 
care-worn,  wan,  sick  face  shocked  me  almost  beyond  en- 
durance. Pale,  with  hard,  deep  lines  about  the  mouth 
and  forehead,  a  strange,  hungry  look  in  her  large  ex- 
pressive eyes.  The  sad,  set  expression  of  her  face 
shocked  me.  Glancing  over  her  figure,  clad  in  coarse 
cotton  cloth,  and  bare  feet,  though  sixteen  years 
of  age,  hands  hardened  and  rough  with  work  out  in  the 
fields.  Poor,  poor  child,  could  I  wonder  at  her  appear- 
ance! How  could  the  expression  be  sweet  and  bright,, 
with  such  surroundings,  rough  treatment  and  harsh 
words,  and  so  much  care  and  grief.  For  naturally 
proud  and  spirited,  her  circumstances  chafed  and  shamed 
her.  Life  was  full  of  grief  and  pain  and  no  bright  star 
gleamed  in  her  future.  Taught  to  believe  her  mother  a 
fraud,  she  showed  no  love  nor  confidence  for  the  mother 
whose  heart  was  breaking  for  her.  Poor,  miserable,  un- 
happy waifs!  And  what  can  I  do  when  you  refuse  me 
your  love!  So  distant,  I  can  scarcely  speak  to  you  or 
approach  you  in  any  way.  What  am  I  to  do  to  make  you 
love  me  and  know  I  am  willing  to  give  my  life  to  save 


RESTING    ON    GOd'S    PROMISES.  233 

you!  Did  a  mother  ever  have  a  more  difficult,  distress- 
ing task? 

Later  persuading  them  to  walk  with  me  to  the  spring, 
I  began  to  talk  to  them  any  way,  and  suggested  that  if 
they  did  not  care  for  me,  did  not  want  me  to  help  them, 
I  would  return  to  mission  work  in  New  York  and  leave 
them  to  the  life  they  seemed  to  prefer.  As  I  talked  on  I 
heard  sobs  from  some  one  behind  and  saw  poor  Stella 
convulsed  with  grief.  When  questioned  she  said  she  did 
not  want  me  to  leave  them.  She  hated  the  life  she  led, 
and  I  was  her  only  hope  for  relief. 

"Oh,  if  you  will  only  stay,"  she  said,  "I  will  do  any- 
thing, will  work  harder  and  take  good  care  of  you  and 
not  let  you  get  sick  again."  So  will  I,"  and  "I,"  and  "I" 
echoed  many  voices. 

Although  they  refused  telling  more,  I  saw  and  knew 
they  led  very  sad  and  pitiful  lives.  Afterwards  I  learned 
that  Stella's  motive  for  not  speaking  was  fear  that  if  I 
knew  all  I  would  go  away  and  never  return.  I  did  not 
make  them  any  promises  then,  as  I  felt  that  I  must  know 
my  way  well  and  be  sure  God  was  leading  me.  So  say- 
ing I  would  consider  the  matter  and  do  all  in  my  power 
for  them,  I  promised  to  see  them  again  soon.  They  did 
not  have  love  and  confidence  in  me  enough  to  agree  to 
run  away  yet.  But  the  thought  that  they  even  wanted 
me  with  them  was  joy  unspeakable.  Mr.  Roderick  came 
home  in  a  very  pleasant  mood,  though  somewhat  stiff  and 
formal,  offered  his  hand,  but  called  me  by  my  maiden 
name  "Miss  Gray."  To  look  at  him  now  one  would 
never  dream  he  ever  could  have  been  the  cruel,  inhuman 
tyrant  of  former  days.  Never  did  he  appear  so  affable 
and  anxious  to  please  me  and  make  my  visit  a  happy  one. 


234  ONE  woman's  life. 

Even  his  sisters  were  kind  and  did  not  utter  a  single 
harsh  word.  I  had  never  seen  such  a  change.  Mr. 
Roderick  took  me  over  to  see  a  new  house  he  was  hav- 
ing built  and  repeatedly  talked  of  my  coming  back,  say- 
ing he  would  be  so  happy  if  his  wife  and  children  were 
only  with  him  in  his  little  new  home.  That  he  was  a 
changed  man  now,  a  far  better  one;  had  learned  to  control 
his  temper  and  would  be  kind  and  good  to  me,  if  only  I 
would  come  home  and  stay.  All  this  was  promising  and 
I  felt  for  the  children's  sake  I  could  almost  make  the 
sacrifice,  though  I  knew  even  then  that  it  meant  loss  of 
health  and  perhaps  sight.  I  could  not  trust  him  and  re- 
fused to  give  a  promise  then.  Kissing  the  children  good- 
bye I  went  to  my  father's  house  to  think  and  decide  this 
weighty  matter  now  before  me.  Go  back  to  Mr.  Rode- 
rick and  my  children!  Submit  to  the  life  he  would  con- 
tinue to  lead  us,  and  to  the  cruelty  he  would  eventually 
fall  into!  For  I  knew  his  nature  was  not  changed  and  he 
would  continue  to  have  those  insane  fits  thrt  would  soon 
destroy  my  health.  I  felt  all  this  show  was  only  to  get 
me  back  into  their  power.  Must  I  do  it?  or  give  myself 
to  missionary  work  and  trust  to  persuading  my  children 
to  forsake  their  present  life  and  come  to  me?  Which 
way  was  right!  Which  must  I  take!  God  make  my 
way  clear,  decide  for  me,  lead  me  in  the  path  of  right  and 
duty. 

"Plan  Thou  for  me,  I  humbly  ask, 
Whatever  seemeth  good  to  Thee, 
And  let  me  simply  rest  in  faith 
As  trusting  as  a  child  should  be." 

"Choose  Thou,  since  Thou  dost  know  it  all; 

Thy  heart  is  kind,  Thy  way  is  beat. 
With  joy  I'll  take  Thy  guiding  hand 
And  trust  Thy  help  to  bear  the  rest." 


RESTING    on   god's   PROMISES.  235 

Not  being  able  to  fully  decide  the  question,  I  began 
to  make  plans  to  do  both.  A  call  for  a  missionary  to 
work  in  Asheville  attracted  my  attention  and  I  respond- 
ed, believing  that  God  would  open  the  way  for  me  to  yet 
obtain  my  children,  if  that  was  the  right  thing  to  do.  Ar- 
riving in  Asheville,  I  found  the  "Home"  could  not  yet 
be  opened  for  a  year,  so  that  was  postponed,  they  having 
changed  their  plans.  The  other  course  now  seemed  the 
only  one  open  for  me.  Go  back  to  Mr.  Roderick  and  the 
•children  !  My  heart  sank  in  despair  at  the  thought.  I 
would  rather  have  stepped  right  into  my  coffin  and  heard 
the  lid  nailed  down  than  return  to  him.  The  awful  pic- 
ture of  that  horrid  face  looking  menacingly  down  upon 
me,  eyes  glaring  in  their  frenzied  wrath  and  teeth  tightly 
set  as  he  hissed  curses  upon  my  head,  made  my  blood 
run  cold  ;  and  shuddering,  I  felt  that  I  could  not  return. 
Then  the  thought  of  the  five  dear  souls  to  be  saved, 
saved  from  him  and  from  an  evil  life!  I  must  make  the 
sacrifice.  Five  souls  are  more  precious  than  one  life,  I 
would  go  / 

After  that  long  night  of  fearful  agony  and  trial  I 
arose  calm  and  determined  in  the  morning  light.  God 
pity  and  strengthen  me  for  the  dark  days  in  store! 

"Simply   trusting   every   day, 
Trusting  him  wliate'er  befall, 
Trusting  him  whatere  hefall 
Trusting  Jesus,  that  is  all." 


CHAPTER  XI. 


A.  MOTHER'S  SARIFICE. 

"As  thy  faith  is  so  shall  it  be  unto  thee. 

'Does  He  lead  me  beside  the  still  waters, 

In  pastures  so  pleasant  and  green? 
Then  why  do  the  dark  storm-clouds  gather 

In  skies  that  have  been  so  serene  " 

HE  quiet  refuge  I  found  in  my  brother 
Bradley's  home  in  Asheville  afforded  the 
rest  and  lime  for  meditation  and  for  making 
the  necessary  preparations  and  plans  to 
begin  the  sacrifice  now  seemingly  so 
clearly  laid  before  me.  Bradley  stood  high  in  the 
city  in  business  and  social  circles,  his  musical  talent,  affa- 
ble manners  and  genteel  dress  made  him  a  favorite  in 
church  and  society  ;  and  his  prompt  and  skillful  manage- 
ment of  business  gave  him  much  prominence  there  beside 
being  a  Mason  of  high  order.  Of  course  his  friends 
soon  became  my  friends,  and  I  was  kindly  received  and 
encouraged  in  business  so  I  soon  had  some  means  to 
provide  for  my  childern  and  help  in  their  education. 

With  this  means  and  many  presents  from  brother 
Bradley  I  again  started  on  my  journey  to  my  children  and 
Mr.  Roderick's  home.  Back,  turn  backward,  to  the  old 
life.  Humbly  as  a  sheep  led  to  the  slanghter,  I  went  to 
,    e  sacrifice,  knowing  my  physical  powers  could  not  en- 


I  waite  1  there  about  two  hour?,  a  thinking  space  before  the 

awful  doom. 


A  mother's  sacrifice.  239' 

dure  the  strain,  but  with  my  life  I  would  purchase  my 
children's  freedom  and  in  a  measure  fit  them  for  eternity. 
Since  I  left  them  in  the  spring,  four  months  ago,  I  had 
only  received  one  short  unsatisfactory  letter  from  Stella. 
And  though  I  had  written  I  would  return,  I  did  not  state 
the  exact  time,  consequently  no  one  was  looking  for  me. 
Driving  up  to  the  house  I  found  it  closed  and  no  re- 
sponse came  to  my  knock.  I  sat  down  upon  my  trunk 
in  the  yard,  the  boxes  scattered  about,  wailing  for  some 
one  to  return.  Oh,  the  dreary,  dreary,  lonesome  spot, 
surrounded  by  the  poor,  desolate  landscape.  A  fruitful 
source  of  homesickness  nourished  by  the  harsh  treatment 
I  knew  was  in  store  for  me.  Already  rumor  said  Mr- 
Roderick's  people  did  not  want  me  to  return,  and  had 
vowed  they  would  not  give  up  the  children  and  I  should 
not  have  them.  But  I  knew  that  with  Mr.  Roderick  lay 
all  the  power,  and  to  his  mercy  I  now  committed  myself. 
They  had  no  longer  a  child  in  their  power,  but  a  woman 
— a  woman  filled  with  a  purpose  determined  and  true 
even  unto  death  if  need  be.  I  waited  there  for  about 
two  hours — a  thinking  space  before  the  awful  doom^ 
They  are  coming.  I  see  one  of  the  children — nay,  two 
appear  against  the  horizon,  as  over  the  hill  they  come 
Stella  and  Marie,  dear  little  girls,  how  tired  and  sad  they 
look!  Poor  dears,  how  glad  I  am  to  be  able  to  help 
you!  As  they  drew  near  I  think  I  never  saw  a  more 
beautiful  face  and  form  than  Marie  possessed.  Thir- 
teen years  old,  thirteen  to-day,  her  birthday.  I  gazed  at 
the  slight  form  clad  in  an  old  faded  frock  which  was  un- 
able to  hide  her  natural  grace  and  loveliness.  A  face  so 
lovely  and  sweet  in  its  piquant  beauty,  I  could  not  with- 
draw my  gaze  of  admiration.     A  decided  contrast  to  her 


240  ONE  woman's  life. 

pale,  care-worn  sister,  Stella,  the  abused,  neglected,  hard- 
worked,  eldest  of  the  five,  now  sixteen  years  of  age. 
Poor  child,  it  makes  my  heart  bleed  even  now  to  think 
of  her.  I  can  never  bear  to  recall  that  haggard,  broken- 
spirited  look  in  her  face.  I  drew  her  to  me  and  kissed 
and  kissed  her  as  though  I  would  with  the  power  of  my 
love  remove  the  burden  from  her  heart.  Could  love 
reach  and  melt  that  heart-broken  look  from  her  dear 
face!  Oh,  my  poor  girl,  how  hard  a  fate  was  yours. 
For  I  afterwards  learned  she  was  hated  by  her  aunts  and 
abused  and  taunted  with  her  resemblance  to  "your  old 
mother,"  as  they  termed  me,  "that  old  hussy"  in  their 
rough  parlance,  until  the  poor  child  really  hated  the 
name  of  mother.  1  was  represented  to  them  as  not  car- 
ing anything  for  them  and  deserting  and  leaving  them  to 
be  a  "fine  lady"  away  with  my  friends,  throwing  them 
aside,  and  that  I  w^as  never  blind  or  sick,  it  was  all  "put 
on"  for  an  excuse  to  get  away  ;  but  for  them  and  their 
self-sacrificing  care  they  would  have  been  left  to  die  ; 
sneering  and  laughing  at  my  ladylike  ways  and  cleanly 
habits,  making  sport  of  all  neatness  and  refined  manners 
and  language. 

"A  sluck-up  lad}^  "  they  termed  me.  <'She's  a  purty 
thing  to  come  to  boss  you  young  uns.  If  she  attempts 
to  say  one  word,  you  get  a  stick  and  beat  her,  beat  her 
away  from  here.  She  cares  for  nothing  but  her  curls 
and  ribbons — even  has  lace  on  her  petticoats.  Stuck  up 
hussy!  you  bring  her  down  and  beat  her.  Never  hoed 
a  hill  of  corn  in  her  fife  and  does  not  know  how  to  make 
a  hoecake.  She's  a  purty  one.  Never  do  you  wear 
the  old  toggery  she  brings  you;  nobody  knows  how  she 
come  by  it,  and  don't  you  be  seen  with  it  on,  I  tell  ye. 


A  mother's  sacrifice.  241 

The  old  heifer,  a  disgrace  to  dacint  people,  coming  down 

here  in  her  finery  and  airs,  talkin'  and  wheedhn'  around. 

If  brother  Jake  had  beat  her  enough  and  made  her  tuck 

up  her  curls  and  gone  to  the  corn-field  as  we  had  to  do, 

it  might  have  give  her  some  sense;  but  he  was  always 

too  good,  and  let  her  walk  right  over  him.     Pore  man; 

but  he  has  had  to  suffer  for  his  humerin'  such  a  no  count 

thing.     Why,  the  stingy  old  cat  would  not  even  loan  me 

her  nice  dress  to  go  to  church  in.     What  she  has  is  too 

good  for  her  betters;  I'll   show   her.     If  brother  hadn't 

had  a  fool  for  a  wife,  he  might  be  a  rich  man  to-day  and 

had  a  home,  and  not  leave  his  family  for  us  pore  wimmin 

folks  to  take  care  of  for  her  while   she  flaunts   around 

over  the  country.     And   now   that   we   have  got  them 

raised  and  large  enough  to  work,  here  she  comes  with 

all  her  high  notions  of  education  and   6oo^.s  and  finery. 

If  brother  Jake  would  do  right  he  would  drive  her  away 

from  here  and  send  ye  children  to  the  plow  and  make  ye 

good  for  something.     Why,  yer   ma    don't  even  know 

how  to  card  a  roll,  the  lazy,  good  for  nothin'  thing." 

With  such  an  education  as  this,  could  I  wonder  the 
children  avoided  me.  They  had  all  come  now,  and  I  saw 
by  the  sidelong  glance  Harriet  gave  me  that  I  was  not 
welcome  there.  She  had  opened  the  doors  and  busied 
herself  about  the  room  while  I  received  and  talked  with 
the  rest  of  my  children,  and  now  we  proceeded  to  the 
door. 

"  Come  in,"  said  Harriet,  "if  ye  can  get  in  for  the 
muss  and  dirt.  I'm  all  in  my  dirt  and  rags,  but  we 
wimmin  have  to  work  here;  we  can't  spend  our  iime 
afore  the  looking-glass  a  primping  like  some  can  do." 
Yet  there  was  hardly  a  mirror  in  the  house  one  could 
16 


242  ONE  woman's  life. 

recognize    oneself    in,    or  large    enough  either.      Then 
in  an  undertone  to  her  sister: 

"  Brother  Jake  loves  the  very  ground  that  woman 
walks  on.  He  would  stick  his  head  in  the  fire  to  get 
her  back  again.  I'll  show  her!  We'll  see  who  is  boss 
this  time,  if  she  cuts  up." 

This  to  Ernest:  "Ernest,  you  little  lazy  rascal! 
Get  some  wood  this  minit  for  yore  pore  ole  aunt  that  has 
had  hard  enough  time  awaiten  on  yer,  you  scamp!" 

The  poor,  pale  child  crept  away  in  obedience  to  her 
command. 

Stella  met  me  coldly  and  did  not  express  any  pleasure 
at  all  at  my  return,  though  she  had  begged  me  with  tears 
to  come  back  when  I  visited  them  in  the  spring.  Now 
she  was  perfectly  indifferent,  and  I  could  not  draw  her 
out  or  make  her  confide  in  me.  I  occupied  her  bed  with 
her  that  night,  and  by  much  coaxing  and  persuasion  late 
in  the  night  she  confessed  that  her  aunts  had  taunted, 
scolded  and  abused  her  on  my  account  until  she  could 
not  bear  it,  and  did  not  dare  to  want,  me  or  even  mention 
my  name  in  their  presence.  She  was  glad  I  had  returned 
though,  as  that  would  get  them  out  of  their  trouble 
soon. 

Mr.  Roderick  came  in  and  was  very  agreeable  and 
pleasant  and  anxious  to  please  me.  Ready  to  do  any- 
thing, commanding  the  children  to  wait  upon  me,  and 
falling  into  all  my  plans  for  the  new  home  and  for  the 
children. 

Even  Harriet's  evil  suggestions  were  not  heeded.  I 
saw  I  must  use  a  great  deal  of  tact  and  discretion  with 
Mr.  Roderick  in  order  to  make  any  advancement  in  their 
life.     Some  time  later  I  unwisely  mentioned  Miss  Grov- 


A  mother's  sacrifice.  243 

esnor's  offer  to  take  Stella  in  her  school  near  Marion. 
Like  a  match  in  a  powder-keg  Mr.  Roderick  flashed  into 
a  rage,  smashing  chairs  and  dashing  them  across  the 
floor,  slamming  and  beating  doors  and  raving: 

"  That  is  your  game,  is  it? "  he  said,  standing  by  the 
door  rattling  the  knob  and  shaking  it  furiously.  "  A 
mighty  fine  lot  you'd  make  of  them  taking  them  from 
work  and  sending  them  off  to  boarding-school," 

I  saw  at  once  I  was  right  in  my  belief  that  he  was  not 
changed,  but  all  the  old  evil  nature  lay  dormant  in  him 
still.  But  too  late  for  me  now.  I  had  made  the  sacrifice 
and  must  go  on.  I  had  returned  to  the  old  life,  to  live 
with  him  whom  I  believed  to  be  insane.  The  thought 
was  horrible,  but  to  be  with  my  children  was  comfort. 
The  unsettled  life,  the  suspense  of  waiting,  was  unbearable 
longer,  together  with  that  sickening  feeling  of  loneliness. 
Just  so  it  was  children  and  home,  no  matter  what  and 
where,  it  was  better  than  the  world.  That  lonely,  deso- 
late feeling  was  particularly  oppressive  in  churches 
amongst  strangers.  If  only  they  would  not  be  forgetful 
to  "  entertain  strangers,"  what  good  they  might  do. 

"Not  one  could  tell,  for  nobody  knew 
Why  love  was  made  to  gladden  a  few, 
And  hearts  that  would  forever  be  true 
Go  lone  and'  starved  the  whole  way  through.". 

The  future  we  cannot  see.  The  sacrifice  I  was  mak- 
ing may  not  gain  the  desired  end.  I  may  not  be  the 
means  in  God's  hands  of  saving  the  souls  of  my  children, 
yet  I  prayed  that  though  my  life  go  out  in  this  effort,  it 
would  not  be  without  its  fruit  for  good.  My  faith  in 
God  was  strong.  I  believed,  and  there  must  be  a 
reward. 


244  ONE  woman's  life. 

During  my  absence  Mr.  Roderick  had  been  unfortu- 
nate in  speculation  and  lost  his  town  property;  also  one 
farm,  so  only  the  original  farm  his  father  had  given  him 
was  left  him  now,  and  on  this  he  had  some  time  ago 
begun  a  new  frame  house.  Not  a  room  was  finished, 
and  we  had  to  remain  with  Harriet  until  the  house 
could  be  put  in  habitable  condition.  No  furnishings 
prepared  either;  so  we  were  soon  very  busy  quilting 
and  making  up  all  the  goods  I  had  brought  them.  Har- 
riet was  extremely  jealous  of  me,  and  did  not  want  me 
to  return  and  usurp  her  place  over  my  children ;  so  she 
made  the  two  months  we  sta3^ed  wdth  her  interesting,  to 
say  the  least.  It  took  that  time  to  get  the  kitchen  pre- 
pared during  the  busy  season  of  ingathering  of  harvest. 
Often  when  Mr.  Roderick  or  the  children  were  talking 
to  me,  planning  for  the  new  home,  Harriet  would  eaves- 
drop at  a  crack  in  the  wall,  and  often  go  away  laughing 
a  hard,  bitter  laugh,  using  sarcastic  expressions,  and 
always  trying  to  get  the  children  not  to  obey  me. 

Feeling  my  time  was  precious,  I  at  once  began  to 
teach  and  train  the  children  into  better  ways  of  living* 
better  manners,  and  religious  habits,  as  well  as  thorough 
instructions  in  their  books.  No  one  approved  of  this — 
not  even  the  children. 

One, day  vainly  endeavoring  to  inspire  my  youngest 
daughter  Celeste  with  some  ambition  and  love  for  study 
(she  was  the  most  impressionable  of  them  all),  I  was 
shocked  to  hear  her  say: 

*'  I  do  not  want  an  education;  what's  the  use  of  it  ? '' 

"  Why,  my  dear,  you  would  be  better  fitted  for  life 
and " 

"What!  You  want  me  ^to  git  an  education  and  then 


A  mother's  sacrifice.  245 

run  off  and  leave  my  husband  and  children  like  you  did," 
she  interposed.  This  was  as  she  had  been  taught — the 
erroneous  impression  they  had  tried  to  give  every  one, 

Harriet  opposed  my  having  all  the  children — one  must 
stay  with  her  and  one  with  Rachel;  but  I  overruled  at 
last,  and  finally  we  settled  down  in  the  unfinished  house, 
which  had  been  weather-boarded  but  not  plastered  or 
ceiled.     Four  very  small  rooms  in  all,  including  kitchen. 

With  an  ox-cart  Ernest  removed  our  new  quilts,  bed- 
ding, wearing  apparel,  etc.,  which  we  had  been  so  busily 
engaged  in  making  while  waiting  for  the  house.  In  the 
dreary  month  of  November  we  took  possession  of  our 
new  home,  on  the  eighteenth  anniversary  of  our  mar- 
riage, though  we  had  November  weather,  too,  cold  and 
rainy.  Marie  was  quite  indisposed,  having  recently  had 
the  measles,  and  now  taking  a  severe  cold.  I  did  not 
intend  she  should  come  out,  and  was  surprised  to  see  her 
late  in  the  evening  slowly  creeping  over  the  hill,  envel- 
oped in  her  father^s  old  overcoat,  whose  tails  dragged 
upon  the  ground  as  she  walked,  and  an  old  hood  upon 
her  head,  drawing  Ernest's  little  toy  wagon  filled  with 
all  her  dolls  and  presents  my  friends  had  sent  them,  soon 
followed  by  Bertha  and  Celeste  in  another  direction,  with 
a  similar  load.  A  comical  picture  they  made  as  they 
slowly  wended  their  way  homeward — to  home  and  mother 
at  last.  "  Why  did  you  venture  out  in  this  weather,  my 
child  ?  "  I  said  to  Marie.  "  Oh,  mother,  I  could  not, 
could  not  stay  away;  I  wanted  to  be  here,  too,  with  the 
others."  So  that  night  we  gathered  all  our  little  ones 
together  at  the  family  altar  for  the  first  time.  I  had  per- 
suaded Mr.  Roderick  we  could  not  start  our  home  with- 
out God's  blessing.     Little  voices  joined  in  the  hymns, 


246  ONE  woman's  life. 

and   Mr.  Roderick  seemed  happy,  and  peace  for  once 
reigned  in  our  home. 

"Jesus,  Master  !  whom  I  serve, 
Strengthen  hand  and  heart  and  nerve 

All  Thy  bidding  to  fulfill ; 
Open  Thou  mine  eyes  to  see 
All  the  work  Thou  hast  for  me." 


CHAPTER  XII. 


DARK    DAYS, 

"  List !  how  the  sad  wind  is  moaning, 
How  gruesome  and  dark  is  the  sky. 
And  see  !    how  the  mad  waves  are  tossing, 
How  the  billows  roll  up  mountain  high," 

Many  pleasant  days  we  spent  in  planning  and  arrang- 
ing our  new  home.  Busy,  hard  work  was  the  order  of 
the  day,  indoors  and  out  of  doors.  The  week  passed 
pleasantly,  but  Sunday's  visit  to  the  country  church  near 
by  was  an  unthought-of  trial,  in  that  so  many  critical 
eyes  were  turned  upon  us.  "  The  runaway  wife  had 
returned."  The  children  were  closely  scrutinized  and 
every  article  of  dress  noted.  Such  a  change  in  their 
manners,  frocks  and  general  appearance  elicited  many  a 
comment,  and  friends  praised  while  enemies  scoffed.  Ev- 
ery eye  was  turned  upon  me  as  I  joined  in  the  songs  that 
were  sung,  and  every  movement  watched,  but  I  felt  God 
was  with  me  and  that  I  was  in  the  right,  so  was  brave 
and  strong  and  independent  of  the  world's  opinion. 

After  services  many  came  forward  with  a  friendly 
greeting,  inviting  me  to  take  a  Sunday-school  class  and 
join  the  choir.  This  was  for  Mr.  Roderick's  sake,  as  it 
was  his  church,  and  now  that  his  wife  had  returned  they 
wanted  to  encourage  him  by  welcoming  me. 

I  set  aside  a  portion  of  each  day  for  the  children's  les- 


248  ONE  woman's  life. 

sons — indeed,  all  the  time  it  was  possible  to  get  awa}^ 
from  their  work.  The  habits  of  years  were  to  be 
changed,  and  that  rather  unwillingly  on  the  part  of  the 
children ;  consequently  scarcely  any  change  was  evident 
for  a  year  or  more.  Oh,  the  discouraging,  trying  work 
of  it!  Often  I  bowed  my  head  in  bitter  despair  as  I  saw 
my  efforts  ran  contrary  to  by  their  aunts,  and  some- 
times in  a  moment  the  work  of  weeks  was  undone.  No 
one  knows  what  a  task  I  had  before  me,  and  often  so 
discouraging!  The  two  older  girls,  Stella  and  Marie, 
were  harder  to  control  or  convince  of  the  error  of  their 
ways,  so  set  were  they  in  what  they  had  been  taught 
and  the  only  hfe  they  knew.  Mr.  Roderick's  people 
opposed  education,  and  said  I  was  spoiling  them. 
Ignorant  Httle  things  !  The  two  youngest,  eleven  and 
twelve  years  of  age,  did  not  know  their  alphabet,  and 
none  of  them  knew  how  to  sew  or  do  much  else  but 
drudgery  work  in  the  fields.  Yet  they  showed  in  speech 
and  manner  that  they  mistrusted  me,  and  had  been  told 
by  their  aunts  to  "  beat"  me  should  I  attempt  to  control 
them. 

The  three  eldest  had  seen  the  hardest  life  and  been 
most  unhappy,  but  the  younger  ones.  Bertha  and  Celeste, 
were  the  most  ignorant  children  it  had  ever  been  my 
misfortune  to  meet.  They  had  almost  run  wild,  and 
would  ask  questions  a  child  of  three  ought  to  have  known- 
Yet  they  were  gentle,  delicate  in  appearance,  with  golden 
hair  and  pretty  faces.  Ernest  was  small  and  frail, 
gentle  in  his  manners  and  naturally  refined  in  feelings  ; 
was  also  strictly  truthful  and  free  from  any  evil  habits, 
though  had  of  course  fallen  into  the  customs  and  ideas  of 
those  around  him.     The  children  now  began  to  tell  me 


DAEK   DAYS.  249 

all  the  falsehoods  which  their  aunts  had  told  them  about 
me,  trying  to  disgust  and  make  them  hate  me.  Stella 
told  of  the  abuse  and  neglect  she  had  endured  until  her 
health  was  ruined.  Every  effort  she  made  toward  self- 
improvement  was  cried  down,  and  she  was  quarreled  at 
.  and  abused,  saying  she  was  trying  to  be  like  her  <'  stuck- 
up  ma."  She  had  gone  through  rain  and  cold,  bare- 
footed and  thinly  clad,  when  already  ill,  to  attend  her 
aunts'  cattle,  often  sitting  for  hours  on  the  cold,  wet 
ground,  not  caring  to  live  and  longing  to  die.  Her 
nerves  were  unstrung  from  the  many  shocks  she  had 
suffered  from  her  father's  raving  mad  fits  and  altercations 
with  her  aunts.  In  summer  they  helped  in  the  fields, 
and  at  noon,  when  all  took  their  dinner  and  rest,  they 
were  required  to  pick  berries,  which  they  sold  to  pur- 
chase their  winter  shoes,  cotton  and  calico  dresses . 
Overwork  had  proved  too  much  for  Stella,  and  her 
health  could  not  withstand  the  shock. 

One  awful  incident  the  children  related  confirmed  my 
belief  in  Mr.  Roderick's  insanity.  Stella  and  Ernest  had 
occasion  to  go  with  him  to  some  place  of  work,  and  were 
running  ahead  when  a  strange  noise  behind  them  made 
them  hastily  return,  and  to  their  horror  they  discovered 
their  father  fallen  upon  the  ground  in  a  fit,  frothing  at 
the  mouth,  and  groaning  and  making  most  horrible 
sounds,  his  eyes  rolled,  his  teeth  set  in  a  terrible  grin,  and 
hands  clenched.  Stella  could  never  recall  the  scene 
without  a  shudder. 

Later,  when  sitting  with  the  children  with  their  books 
and  sewing,  often  we  would  look  up  and  discover  Harriet 
standing  in  the  doorway  scowling  down  upon  us.  She 
had  slipped  in  upon  us,  and  now  such  a  scolding  we  would 


250  ONE  woman's  life. 

get  !  These  outbursts  of  passion  vve  endured  quietly, 
the  one  thought  being  for  the  benefit  of  the  children. 
Mr.  Roderick  now  began  to  have  those  awful  bursts  of 
passion  quite  frequently,  and  vented  his  temper  upon  the 
children  at  first,  requiring  most  unreasonable  things  of 
them,  driving  them  out  into  all  kinds  of  bitter  weather, 
quarreling  about  their  studies  and  clothing. 

One  bitter  cold  winter  day,  the  wind  driving  the  sleet 
in  fearful  gusts,  Mr.  Roderick  became  enraged  at  poor 
little  Ernest  and  determined  to  force  him  out  into  the 
weather  on  an  unimportant  errand  six  mile  away.  Twelve 
miles  exposure  in  this  terrible  gale  would  kill  him. 

"Get  up  from  there  and  go,  you  httle  lazy  rascal! 
I'll  teach  you  how  to  tender  yourself  up  this  way!  Go, 
this  instant!  Don't  stand  there  talking  back  to  me!  No, 
you  shall  not  have  a  coat!  Go  just  as  you  are!  You 
shall  not  have  a  wrap!" 

The  pale,  trembling  figure  disappeared  from  the  door- 
way out  into  the  storm.  I  waited  almost  breathlessly 
for  an  opportunity  to  slip  out  of  the  room,  and  soon  fol- 
lowed with  wraps.  On,  on,  I  ran  through  the  blinding 
sleet  and  rain,  at  last  discovering  him  getting  on  a  horse 
at  his  Aunt  Harriet's.  I  called.  He  saw  me  and  waited. 
I  shall  never  forget  the  feeling  of  joy  as  I  wrapped  up 
that  boy!  So  thinly  clad,  he  was  now  wet  and  shiver- 
ing. Just  in  time  to  save  you,  my  darling  boy!  For 
further  exposure  in  that  severe  weather  would  have  been 
his  death. 

In  another  fit  of  temper  Mr.  Roderick  compelled  all 
the  children  to  go  out  in  a  cold  spring  rain  to  gather  the 
cockerel  out  of  the  wheat;  would  not  permit  them  to 
wrap  up,  and  they  soon  became  chilled  and  wet  in  the 


DARK   DAYS.  251 

sleety  rain.  Their  hands  were  all  frosted  and  swollen 
next  day  so  they  could  scarcely  use  them.  Many  a 
scheme  I  had  to  invent  in  order  to  get  them  out  of  that 
rain.  I  took  an  umbrella  and  went  into  the  field.  Stand- 
ing upon  a  stump  I  began  talking  pleasantly  with  them 
all,  lightly  jesting,  trying  to  get  Mr.  Roderick  into  a  good 
humor.  After  talking  for  some  time  I  at  last  got  down, 
and  said  to  Marie: 

"Come  with  me,  dear,  I  want  you  for  some  work  I 
must  complete  this  evening." 

Mr.  Roderick  looked  his  surprise,  but  as  I  smiled  back 
at  him,  saying: 

"Now,  you  are  not  going  to  leave  me  all  by  myself, 
are  you?" 

He  said,  "Go  along,  you  two  good-for-nothings;  we 
don't  need  you." 

But  they  stayed  and  stayed,  and  I  suffered  such  anx- 
iety about  their  health  I  could  not  bear  it  any  longer. 
So  again  I  went  to  my  old  stump  and  perched  upon  it. 
I  talked  and  talked,  laughing  and  jesting,  until  when  I 
said  I  wanted  Bertha  and  Celeste,  he  reluctantly  let  them 
go,  soon  himself  following  with  Ernest.  Thus  I  had  to 
scheme  to  save  the  children's  health,  though  they  did 
suffer  for  some  years  after  from  the  ill  effects  of  their 
father's  cruel  treatment.  This  constant  interference  to 
save  them  finally  turned  his  temper  upon  myself. 

During  the  first  year  of  my  return  my  health  bore  up 
quite  well,  considering  the  heavy  tasks  and  mental  strain 
and  anxiety,  together  with  insufficient  food,  for  Mr. 
Roderick  only  provided  the  coarsest  of  food,  and  my 
weak  stomach  soon  refused  it.  Through  this  continued 
state  of  semi-starvation   and  hard  work  my  newly  ac- 


252  ONE  woman's  life. 

quired  strength  gradually  waned,  and  night  after  night 
I  tossed  on  my  bed,  racked  with  intense  pain  in  spine 
and  eyes,  many  times  sitting  up  or  walking  in  the  moon- 
light in  the  yard  to  relieve  and  cool  my  fevered  brow. 
I  now  missed  the  letters  from  my  friends;  as  my  physical 
being  became  weak,  I  longed  for  and  needed  their  comfort- 
ing sympathy.  But  no  letters  came  as  they  did  the  first 
year,  and  the  presents  that  followed  my  return  were 
missed — the  loving  attention  more  than  the  articles  them- 
selves; though  I  provided  quite  well  for  the  family 
by  raising  fowls,  sheep,  etc.,  selling  eggs,  butter, 
and  managing  well  in  everj'^  way  to  help  the  children 
with  their  crops.  Yet  I  suffered  from  want  of  proper 
food,  for  now,  although  I  could  help  provide  it  myself,  my 
stomach  had  become  so  diseased  by  much  fasting  that  it 
would  not  digest  it,  and  I  could  not  eat. 

I  suffered  greatly  from  insomnia,  and  one  night  I  had 
tossed  and  endured  the  pain  until  I  could  not  lie  there 
longer,  but  sat  up  on  the  side  of  the  bed  sobbing  softly? 
my  body  trembling  with  nervousness.  Mr.  Roderick 
awoke,  immediately  flashing  into  a  passion  at  finding  me 
weeping,  began  raving  and  calling  me  names.  To  escape 
him  I  shpped  away  to  the  window,  not  daring  to  open 
my  lips  in  reply.  He  dashed  wildly  from  the  bed,  throw- 
ing his  arms  and  screaming.  He  hissed  curses  between 
his  teeth  as  he  came  towards  me.  I  sprang  through  the 
half-open  window  and  ran  with  all  my  strength;  but  he 
came  through  the  window,  ran  after  me,  caught  me  by 
the  collar  and  dragged  me  to  the  door,  shaking  my  body 
until  I  almost  dropped.  Bringing  his  fist  down  at  my 
cheek  and  then  beating  upon  the  door  (which  probably 
saved  my  poor  body,  he  vented  his  anger  upon  it. 


DARK   DAYS.  253 

He  called  loudly  to  Stella  to  open  the  door,  which  she 
quickly  did,  slipping  in  between  us,  holding  me  close  to 
her  while  she  begged  and  commanded  him  to  leave  me 
alone. 

"You  know  mother  did  not  do  anything  to  you!  Stop! 
Father,  father,  stop!     Leave  mother  alone! 

What  with  persuasion  and  command  she  got  him 
away.  Still  loudly  talking  and  shaking  his  fists,  he  finally 
settled  in  a  corner  of  the  fireplace,  growling  and  groan- 
ing, until  at  last  he  became  quiet  and  subdued. 

These  scenes  now  followed  each  other  so  fre- 
quently that  I  became  terribly  weakened,  and  at  times 
utter  despair  and  desperation  would  seize  me  and  I  would 
*  go  away  into  the  dark  woods  and  throw  myself  upon  the 
ground  and  weep  and  pray  until  a  measure  of  peace 
came  into  my  soul,  and  strength  was  given  to  go  back  and 
continue  the  work  before  me.  Indifferent  as  to  my  life 
now,  I  cared  not  if  he  should  kill  me.  I  resolved  for 
the  children's  sake  I  would  bring  about  a  change  for  the 
better  if  I  died  for  it. 

One  time  I  accidentally  knocked  a  bucket  from  a  shelf. 
Mr.  Roderick  was  in  the  yard,  and  seizing  a  rock  he  ran 
towards  me  saying,  between  his  clenched  teeth,  "I'll 
teach  you  how  to  throw  buckets  round,  madam,"  he 
drew  back  to  throw  the  rock,  but  I  quietly  walked  into 
the  house,  when  he  snatched  the  door  from  its  hinges 
and  rushed  at  me.  I  turned  calmly  towards  him  with 
strength  born  of  desperation  and  said,  "Strike,  if  you 
like!  Finish  your  work,  and  then  you  will  be  hanged 
for  murder!"  So  differently  I  met  him  from  former 
times  that  he  was  stunned  with  surprise.  I  did  not  run 
and  show  fear  as  in  years  gone  by.     His  arm   dropped 


254  ONE  woman's  life. 

at  his  side.  My  words  convincing  him  that  the  law 
would  hang  him  if  he  murdered  me,  he  went  out  mutter- 
ing to  himself,  looking  all  the  sagacity  of  a  cunning  ma- 
niac. At  another  time  he  happened  to  overhear  me 
speaking  to  the  children  of  their  resemblance  to  my 
father's  family.  ^'  How  dare  you,  "  he  screamed,  "com- 
pare my  children  to  those  infernal  Canadians !  If  any- 
thing /  had  looked  like  them  I  would  crush  the  life  out 
of  it!  The  wretches!  The  low-down  scoundrels!  How 
I  hate  them!" 

He  scowled,  grasping  me  by  the  shoulder,  shaking  me 
violently  and  knocking  a  glass  out  of  my  hand,  which 
fell  in  atoms  on  the  floor.  He  then  rushed  out  into  the 
yard  and  cut  a  stick,  saying,  "I  see  what  I  have  to  do. 
I  see  what  my  duty  is,  and,  though  I  hate  to  do  it,  I  will 
have  to.     Just  you  come  here,  madam!" 

I  stood  in  the  doorway  unmoved,  filled  with  indigna- 
tion and  desperation.  Indeed,  I  cared  not  for  my  life,  I 
was  so  miserable.  If  he  had  seized  the  axe  lying  near 
by — and  I  thought  he  would — and  crushed  my  life  out 
with  it,  I  should  have  received  it  without  an  effort  at 
resistance.  I  had  not  the  slightest  desire  to  save  myself. 
The  children  rushed  between  us.  Brave,  Stella ! 
With  the  strength  of  will  and  self-control  that  commands 
armies,  she  could  sometimes  reduce  her  father  to  a  state 
of  at  least  sullen  quiet;  and  now  she  came  to  the  rescue, 
commanding  him  to  go  away,  talking  as  fast  as  she  could, 
while  she  gently  pushed  me  into  the  room  and  locked 
the  door.  Mr.  Roderick  spent  his  fury  in  the  open  air, 
and  gradually  subsided  into  sullen  silence,  would  not 
speak  to  any  one,  and  perhaps  the  next  day  would  be  on 


DARK   DAYS.  255 

the  other  extreme,  and  be  too  kind  and  good  for  any- 
thing. 

Another  great  grief  came  into  my  Hfe  at  this  time — 
my  mother  was  now  an  inmate  of  an  insane  asy- 
lum. Ill  health  and  my  sad  fate  had  partially  dethroned 
reason,  and  my  mother  had  long  been  lost  to  me.  My 
poor,  poor  mother!  Her  condition  was  a  continual 
source  of  grief,  and  now  that  she  must  be  amongst 
strangers  was  worse.  But  dear  father  had  exhausted 
his  strength  in  caring  for  her,  was  getting  old  and  worn- 
out  and  could  not  keep  her  as  was  necessary. 

My  mind  was  somewhat  diverted  by  trying  to  get 
Stella  into  school.  I  realized  that  this  was  the  one  thing 
absolutely  necessary  for  her  now.  Although  she  was 
my  main  protector  and  shield  at  home,  of  course  I  could 
not  sacrifice  her  for  my  comfort.  I  approached  Mr. 
Roderick  with  great  caution,  and  after  many  disappoint- 
ments and  fears,  he  at  last,  in  a  fit  of  good  humor,  agreed 
to  let  her  go,  and  all  arrangements  were  perfected. 

When  her  aunts  discovered  our  plans  they  sent  for  Mr. 
Roderick,  who  remained  over  night  with  them,  and  re- 
turning next  morning  said  to  me,  "  Write  that  old  school- 
marm  that  Stella  can't  come."  Her  aunts'  jealousies 
were  aroused  over  her  brightened  prospects  and  they 
were  determined  to  bring  her  back  to  her  old  state  of 
submission  to  their  cruel  will. 

Very  soon  after  this  another  opportunity  was  offered 
Stella — that  to  enter  Greenville  Academy  under  my  for- 
mer teacher.  Miss  Hattie  Grovesnor.  I  felt  that  new 
scenes  and  association  with  people  of  culture  and  high 
character  would  develop  her  strong  and  sincere  nature 
into  a  fine,  noble  woman. 


256  ONE  woman's  life. 

When  I  again  pressed  the  matter  upon  Mr.  Roderick, 
to  my  intense  joy  and  surprise  he  yielded  a  ready  con- 
sent. Hasty  arrangements  were  made,  and  we  kept  it 
so  quiet,  hiding  the  garments  we  worked  upon  when  her 
aunts  were  about,  until  all  was  ready. 

The  morning  of  her  departure  came,  and  I  hastened 
her  off,  almost  holding  my  breath  with  fear  that  Mr. 
Roderick  would  at  the  last  moment  retract  and  not  let  her 
go,  and  drew  a  breath  of  prayerful  relief  as  the  vehicle 
vanished  out  of  sight  bearing  her  to  the  railroad  station. 
One  object  accomplished!  one  prayer  answered!  God 
knows  with  how  thankful  a  heart  I  knelt  at  his  altar  that 
night! 

I  had  now  gained  the  perfect  love  and  confidence^of 
my  children.  Stella  was  so  careful  not  to  do  anything 
to  displease  me,  and  the  sincere  grief  she  felt  at  parting 
proved  her  true  and  loving  heart.  The  despised  sorrow- 
ing mother,  who  had  hungered  and  yearned  for  their 
love  with  unspeakable  longings,  was  at  last  accepted  and 
loved  as  ardently  as  ever  mother  was  loved.  Little  sur- 
prises of  affection  were  now  ever  coming  into  my  life, 
such  as  occurred  the  next  day  after  Stella's  departure. 
Ernest  came  to  my  side  and  confidentially  said: 

"  Mother,  father  shall  never  strike  you  again  if  I  can 
help  it.  Do  not  feel  bad  because  Stella  has  gone;  I  will 
protect  you  now." 

Marie  took  Stella's  place  in  the  housework  and  per- 
formed her  duties  faithfully  and  well  so  as  to  save  me  all 
the  anxiety  and  care  possible. 

Gentle  little  Bertha  was  extremely  fond  of  flowers  and 
always  kept  a  bouquet  on  my  table  and  a  nosegay  pinned 
at  my  throat,  expressing  her  love  by  these  quiet  deeds 


DARK   DAYS.  257 

and  not  in  words.  Celeste  was  more  demonstrative  and 
talked  much,  planning  and  helping  in  every  way,  show- 
inof  her  devotion  to  me — so  thoufjhtful  and  willing  to 
obey.  At  last  they  had  awakened  to  the  fact  that  I  had 
been  greatly  wronged  and  persecuted,  and  in  a  measure 
realized  how  intense  had  been  my  sufferings. 

One  bright  glowing  shower  of  happiness  was  soon 
poured  upon  me  in  the  conversion  of  my  three  daughters, 
Marie,  Bertha  and  Celeste  entering  the  church  and  giv- 
iniT  their  souls  to  God. 


o 


"Behin'd  every  storm-cloud  and  shadow 
Is  the  light  of  His  glory  and  love; 
And  'mid  the  loud  roar  of  the  tempest, 
Sweet  music  I  hear  from  above." 

Faithand  prayer  indeed  have  their  reward,  and  oh, 
-how  they  strengthened  me  then. 

Mr.  Roderick  now  began  building  a  large  new  house 
upon  a  high  knoll  with  a  lovely  lawn  of  trees,  grass  and 
flowers.  The  view  was  grand,  and  altogether  it  made  a 
beautiful  home.  Myself  and  children  planted  and  culti- 
vated the  flowers  and  spent  many  happy  moments  v/ith 
them.  Another  source  of  comfort  for  me  was  my  Sun- 
day-school class.  Three  of  my  children  also  were  in  my 
class,  and  many  were  the  happy  lessons  we  learned. 
Then,  too,  I  found  pleasure  in  writing  for  the  papers  and 
journals,  defraying  all  the  expense  of  our  reading-matter. 

Notwithstanding  our  rather  isolated  location,  we  had 
a  great  many  visitors,  more  of  Mr.  Roderick's  relations 
than  mine,  as  he  was  surrounded  by  his,  but  mine  were 
far  away,  My  brother  and  his  wife  came  and  my  father 
-and  a  few  others,  but  Mr.  Roderick's  friends  had  seem- 
ingly become  my  friends,  and  all  treated  me  well.  Alas, 
17 


258  ONE  woman's  life. 

only  one  family  of  these  new  friends  now  remains  true,  so- 
great  was  Mr.  Roderick's  influence  in  the  community. 
And,  indeed,  I  am  not  surprised,  for  he  was  the  most 
double  character  I  ever  knew.  Mr.  Roderick  in  society  was 
quite  a  different  man  from  Mr.  Roderick  at  home,  and 
no  one  would  believe  me  if  I  had  told  them  of  how  he 
treated  us.  They  would  think  it  impossible  for  a  man  of 
such  pleasing,  affable  manners,  such  a  church  leader,  and 
Sunday-school  superintendent!  All  was  grace  and  polite- 
ness in  company.  So  cordial,  easy,  gentle  and  generous! 
Who  could  clothe  him  in  the  character  of  a  tyrant  and  a 
junatic? 

Ah,  there  was  no  use  to  speak  of  it  to  them.  They 
could  not  conceive  of  such  a  change.  Beside,  I  was 
ashamed  for  the  public  to  know  our  private  life. 

One  instance  as  an  illustration.  A  Mr.  Tolbert  and 
family,  one  of  the  first  families  in  that  community,  were 
good  friends  of  mine  and  on  pleasant  terms  with  Mr. 
Roderick.  They  came  to  spend  the  day.  Mr.  Roderick 
had  been  somewhat  vexed  with  Mr.  Tolbert  in  some  busi- 
ness matter;  at  least  had  raved  at  home  about  him  being  a 
"black  liar,"  "hypocrite,"  "thief,"  etc. 

Now  he  met  him  with  a  bland  smile  and  hearty  hand- 
shake. Did  all  he  could  to  entertain  and  make  himself 
agreeable  and  invited  Mr.  Tolbert  out  to  see  his  bees. 
Inadvertently  Mr.  Tolbert  started  through  the  kitch- 
en, turning  he  apologized.  "No,  no,  that  doesn't  matter. 
Come  right  on.  An  old  friend  like  you  is  certainly  wel- 
come here  anywhere.  Come  right  through,  my  dear  sir, 
etc. 

After  their  departure  "That  blundering  blockhead 
daring  to  pry  into  my  things!     Run  headlong  into   one's 


DARK    DAYS.  259 

kitchen — the  prying,  black-hearted  rascal!    How  dare  he 
come  imposing  upon  me  in  this  way." 

This  we  listened  to,  as  often  before,  in  astonishment  at 
the  sudden  transformation  of  the  gentleman  into  the  un- 
reasonable, raving,  ill-tempered  "man  about  the  home." 

"To  say  well  is  giood,  but  to  do  well  is  better, 
Do  well  is  the  spirit,  and  say  well   t'he  letter; 
If  do  well  and  say  well  were  fitted  in  one  frame 
All  were  won,  all  were  done,  and  got  were  a'll  the  gain." 

A  glorious  autumn  mornincj!  The  sun  rose  in  a  clear 
sky,  sparkling  jewels  on  every  flower  and  shrub  and 
"tips  with  fire  the  needles  of  the  pines,"  as  Whittier  so 
inimitably  puts  it,  I  stood  in  the  doorway  drinking  in  na- 
ture's loveliness,  and  chatting  to  the  family  within.  Turn- 
ing I  espied  coming  up  the  walk  to  the  house  a  gentleman 
and  a  beautiful,  bright,  happy  looking  girl. 

"Stella!  Stella!  can  it  be  you?"  As  we  opened  our 
arms  to  receive  the  school-girl  home  again;  but  no  long- 
er the  sad-faced,  sick-looking  girl  that  had  left  home  one 
year  ago.  Health  bloomed  upon  her  dimpled  cheek,  and 
happiness  glowed  from  her  deep  blue  eyes. 

"Mr.  Lyman,  my  mother,  father,  sisters,  and  little 
brother,"  she  said,  and  then  designated  each  child  by 
name.  We  had  glanced  in  surprise  at  the  stranger,  but 
now  took  a  more  careful  survey  of  the  gentlemanly,  re- 
fined young  man  and  gave  him  a  warm  welcome  as 
Stella's  friend.  As  we  went  into  the  house,  a  scene  a 
year  ago  flashed  into  my  mind.  Stella,  standing  where  I 
had  stood  in  the  doorway,  had  remarked. 

"I  wonder  what  my  future  husband  will  be  like  ?  Wish 
I  knew  what  he  is  doing  now,  and  where  he  is.    If  I  am 


260  ONE  woman's  life. 

to  marry  at  all,  I  know  he  is  living  somewhere  in  this 
wide  world,  as  he  must  have  been  born  long-  afjo." 

Mr.  Lyman  coming  in  this  way  had  recalled  the  scene, 
and  I  glanced  at  him,  wondering  if  this  was  indeed  the 
introduction  to  her  future  husband.  The  interest  had 
already  been  aroused  by  her  letters  and  I  naturally  felt 
curious  to  see  him. 

Mr.  Roderick  met  them,  kissing  Stella,  and  ♦warmly 
welcoming  Mr.  Lyman  in  his  most  cordial  manner  and 
all  during  the  visit  was  so  agreeable  and  nice,  that  after- 
wards when  Stella  told  him  of  her  father's  cruelty  he 
could  not  believe  it,  but  said,  "I  thought  I  had  never  met 
a  more  happy,  congenial  family." 

Indeed  Mr.  Roderick  appeared  the  most  indulgent  and 
^enerous  father  and  husband  he  had  ever  seen.  We  soon 
surrounded  Stella  with  eager  questions  about  her  school 
and  every  one  she  knew.  She  expressed  herself  so  hap- 
py in  all  but  the  one  worry  that  I  would  not  escape  her 
father's  wrath,  and  that  thought  of  our  unsafe  condition 
at  home  often  brought  a  cloud  over  her  otherwise  bright, 
calm  sky.  Mr.  Roderick,  learning  of  Stella's  engage- 
ment, was  very  much  pleased  as  Mr.  Lyman  had  prop- 
erty, but  to  let  her  return  to  school  was  out  of  the  question 
with  him.  She  wanted  another  year  or  two  in  school  but 
her  father  would  not  hear  to  it  at  all,  so  the  poor  gir^ 
had  to  give  it  up.  Now,  for  seven  months  she  remained 
at  home,  performing  her  duties  and  making  preparations 
for    her  wedding. 

During  this  time  I  made  a  visit  to  my  mother  in  the 
asylum.  I  found  her  better.  The  physicians  had  dis- 
covered the  seat  of  the  disease  and  had  greatly  improved 
her  condition.     I  took  Marie  with  me,  but  did  not  intro- 


DARK   DAYS.  261 

duce  her  as  my  child.    Presently  mother  looked    up    at 
me  and  said : 

"  Ah,  Edna,  you    cannot  deceive   me,  that  is  one  of 
your  own  little  girls." 

She  was  delighted  to  see  us  and  appeared  her  own 
natural  self,  and  it  seemed  wrong  for  her  to  be  there.  I 
really  enjoyed  my  visit  when  I  heard  from  others  how 
my  mother's  Christian  influence  was  felt.  The  physicians 
and  others  spoke  of  her  beautiful  character  and  for  her 
sake  gave  me  every  attention  possible.  She  was  in  the 
"  sane  ward  "  and  was  comfortable  in  every  way,  sur- 
rounded by  flowers,  music,  birds,  nicely  carpeted  rooms, 
each  little  room,  as  well  as  the  ward,  being  carpeted  and 
nicely  furnished.  Ever3^thing  was  neat,  clean  and  at- 
tractive, and  was  made  bright  and  cheerful  for  them. 
Sometimes  most  horrible  scenes  were  met  with.  In  the 
dining-room  they  were  often  uncontrollable,  dashing  dishes, 
laughing,  screaming,  talking.  Often  the  attendants  have 
to  take  them  away.  The  dining-room  accommodated  five 
hundred  persons.  I  sat  with  mother  at  the  "sane  table" 
one  meal.  It  was  neatly  furnished  with  white  linen  cloth 
and  napkins,  but  at  the  other  tables  only  tin  cups  and 
plates  and  spoons  could  be  trusted  in  their  hands.  The 
grounds  were  beautifully  kept.  Entertainments,  even 
dancing,  games,  etc.,  for  the  benefit  of  the  inmates,  were 
frequently  indulged  in.  But  sad  to  say,  many  of  these 
poor  unfortunates  were  left  to  the  asylum's  care  entirely. 
Their  own  people  neglecting  and  perhaps  never  seeing 
them  again.  I  found  Dr.  Murphy  a  kind,  efficient  physi- 
cian and  Christian  gentleman.  A  good  corps  of  physicians 
assisted  him.  All  seemed  in  deep  sympathy  with  the 
poor  inmates  and  did  all  in  their  power  for  them.  Little 
Marie  soon  became  a  favorite  with  them  all  and  was  often 


262  ONE  woman's  life. 

loaded  with  presents  and  tokens  of  esteem.  They  called 
her  "the  little  darling,"  and  I  had  to  watch  her  to  keep 
her  out  of  dangerous  touch. 

I  was  sad  at  the  thought  of  leaving  my  mother,  yet  it 
must  be,  as  she  was  not  yet  permitted  to  leave  the  asylum. 
Good-bye  is  said  and  a  parting  kiss,  and  mother  and  I 
parted  once  more. 

Home  again  with  its  pleasures  and  pain.  Pleasures 
with  my  children  and  in  Stella's  happiness,  though  that 
was  often  clouded  by  her  father's  insane  fits.  One  night 
he  screamed  and  raved  so  loudly  that  a  clergyman 
staying  over  night  at  Rachel's,  a  mile  distant,  inquired 
who  it  was  screaming  so.  Though  Rachel  knew  who  it 
was,  she  answered: 

"Oh,  an  old  drunken  man,  half  crazy  with  delirium 
tremens." 

Another  time  I  passed  by  his  nephew's  house  and  his 
wife,  recently  married,  inquired: 

"  What  is  the  matter  up  at  your  house  ?  Often  I  hear 
Mr,  Roderick  screaming  and  slamming  things  around  and 
making  most  frightful  noises.     What  is  the  trouble  ?" 

Mr.  Roderick's  sister  Lizzie,  sitting  near  by,  said  : 

"I  can  tell  you  what  is  the  matter.  It's  brother  Jake 
in  one  of  his  spells.  I  know  all  about  it,  I  have  seen  a 
many  a  one.     It's  like  fits  but  not  fits." 

I  did  not  answer  but  could  not  refrain  a  smile. 

*'  I  never  heard  anything  Hke  that,"  Mrs.  Dobbs  an- 
swered.     "I  hear  him  down  here  every  day." 

I  moved  away  without  further  words.  It  was  a  sub- 
ject I  could  not  discuss.  One  time  I  did  mention  it  to 
Albert,  Mr.  Roderick's  nephew,  a  young  minister,  who 


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DAKK   DAYS.  265^ 

asked  me  why  I  did  not  call  on  them  for  help,  or  come 
to  them. 

"We  all  know  about  those  awful  spells  he  has,"  he 
said,  "  and  you  ought  not  to  stay  there  with  him  at  those 
times." 

He  was  Caroline's  son  and  had  obtained  a  good  edu- 
cation through  great  opposition.  There  was  a  sympathy 
between  us,  and  often  he  was  kind  and  would^have  done 
anything  to  relieve  us.  But  Mr.  Roderick  grew  worse 
as  the  winter  advanced,  and  Stella  advised  me  to  take 
some  step  for  our  safety,  saying: 

"I  can  never  go  away  and  leave  you  here.  I  can 
never  see  a  moment's  peace  if  you  stay." 

The  months  wore  on  and  the  day  of  her  departure 
drew  near.  Mr.  Lyman  had  visited  her  frequently  and^ 
had  endeared  himself  to  the  whole  family.  Though 
3^oung,  he  was  a^  most^exemplary  man  and  worthy  of 
highest  esteem.  Stella  had  become  converted  but  had 
not  yet  entered  the  church.  ^^  Nearly  all  in  the  fold  now- 
My  prayers  answered  again,  as  they  were  gathered  in 
"one  by  one."  One  left — Ernest — but  he  would  come 
soon  I  knew.    " 

All  my  children  were  now  perfectly  [^devoted  to  me,- 
No  sacrifice  was  too  great  for  them  to  make  for  their 
mother.  Love  is'a  strong  influence  over  a  child,  and 
ruleth  with  a  constant  and  lasting  power.  No  rod,  no- 
fear,  no  other  power  can  rule  over  the  heart  of  a  child 
and  endure  to  life's  end  as  pure,  sincere  love. 

"A  moither's  love,  how  sweet  the  name! 

What  is  a  mother's  love? 
A  noble,  pure  and  tender  flame 
Enkindled  from  above." 


"266  ONE  woman's  life. 

Our  days  were  filled  with  many  duties  now,  as  the 
wedding  day  approached.  Stella  was  happy  in  all  but 
leaving  me  to  endure  her  father's   mad   fits  and  cruelty. 

Because  of  the  small  house  (Mr.  Roderick  had  not 
yet  finished  the  larger  one)  we  could  not  invite  many 
people  to  the  wedding,  and  my  strength  had  been 
■exhausted  in  having  so  much  of  the  providing  to  do,  as 
well  as  so  much  work. 

Christmas  day,  the  day  of  the  wedding,  dawned 
bright  and  clear.  We  had  sent  Miss  Tolbert  word  to 
come  and  spend  the  day,  but  not  to  say  anything  about 
the  wedding.  As  she  came  by  Harriet's  she  stopped  for 
a  while. 

"  Well,"  she  said,  '*  I  will  be  going.  I  brought  my 
knitting  along  and  thought  to  spend  the  day  with  Mrs. 
Roderick." 

"  Why,  didn't  you  know  thar's  a  wedding  over  thar  ? 
Some  of  Edna  Roderick's  grand  doings.  Never  even 
invited  us  girls.  S^c//a/  that  chile,  marryin'!  She'll  be 
sorry  fer  it  yit.  Bless  me,  what  does  she  know?  About 
as  much  **  stuff  "  as  her  stuck-up  ma  does.  Will  won- 
ders never  cease?  What  does  she  know  about  that 
boy?  I  would  not  trust  any  man,  and  she'll  be  sorry  for 
it  some  day.  Too  good  to  have  her  pore  ole  aunts 
thar  ;  but  none  sich  can  prosper.  She'll  come  down 
yit." 

To  my  great  pleasure  my  father  happened  to  come 
down  on  a  visit,  though  he  did  not  know  of  the  wedding- 
I  had  not  extended  any  invitations,  as  would  have  to 
invite  both  sides  if  I  did,  and  I  disliked  to  mar  Stella's 
happiness  with  the  presence  of  curious  and  critical 
^jnemies. 


DARK    DAYS.  267 

Rev.  Mr.  Seymore,  Miss  Hattie  Grovesnor's  husband, 
■%vhom  she  had  married  about  three  years  previously, 
performed  the  ceremony,  and  his  son  Albert  (by  his 
first  wife)  was  groomsman.  Stella  looked  very  sweet 
and  pretty  in  her  bridal  attire,  and  Mr.  Lyman's  youth- 
ful face  looked  so  earnest  and  devoted,  I  felt  I  had  en- 
trusted my  child  into  good  hands,  as  afterwards  proved. 

Marie  and  Albert,  and  Sadie  Tolbert  and  Ernest 
were  all  the  attendants.  The  scene  was  a  very  impres- 
sive one.  Love  pushing  the  frail  bark  of  youth  and 
beauty  out  into  life's  sea,  perhaps  tempestuous  and 
rough,  perhaps  calm  and  serene.  Serenity  seemed  the 
guardian  spirit  to-day,  however.  Even  Mr.  Roderick 
was  in  one  of  his  most  bland,  contented  moods.  Tears 
would  come  to  my  eyes  as  the  uncertainty  of  life  and 
thoughts  of  all  the  awful  past,  tears  of  happiness,  too, 
for  so  happy  a  release  for  Stella  from  the  wretched  life 
she  had  so  long  led.  Glad  and  thankful  indeed  I  was  to 
place  her  into  the  hands  of  love  and  comfort,  and  one  so 
worth}'.  Sadness  would  come,  though,  as  we  knew  this 
was  the  beginning  of  the  end  of  our  Hfe  in  the  old  home 
Changes  are  sad  always  and  hearts  are  made  to  ache 
over  the  uncertainty  of  life.  Part  of  my  reward  had 
come  in  the  accomplishment  of  a  partial  education  of 
one  daughter  and  her  happy  marriage;  but,  above  all, 
her  conversion  and  consecration  to  God.  Should  I  not 
indeed  shed  tears  of  joy? 

Never  again  were  we  all  together  as  we  had  been  in 
the  past.  Soon  other  separations  and  long  years  of 
waiting.  Were  we  not  to  be  gathered  again  into  a  home 
of  our  own? 


268  ONE  woman's  life. 

"I  am  glad  that  He  knows,  fhat  He  sees  it  all  tJiroiip;!!? 
Wihat  I  meant  to  have  done,  and  the  thmg  I  did  do, 
*"  And  over  my  mistakes'  His  sweet  charity  throws, 
I  am  glad,  that  He  knows." 

"I  am  glad  that  He  knows  all  my  wavering  trust, 
I  am  gilad  that  He  remembers  that  I  am  but  dust. 
What  force  of  temptation  I  have  to  oppose 
I  am  glad  that  He  knows." 

''   "  The  bird  from  the  nest  is  flown,  the  good-byes  said^ 
and  we  are  lonely  without  thee,  my  child,  but  happy  in 

* 

your  happiness." 

"I  miss  you,  my  darling,  my  darling, 
The  embers  bum  low  on  the  hearth. 
And  still  is  the  air  of  the  "household  , 

And  hushed  is  the  voice  of  its  mirth." 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


HORROR. 


"  Oh,  wild  grows  the  tempest  and  wilder 
The  night  draweth  nigh ;  and  so  dark, 
And  all  the  wild  waves  and  the  billows 
Roll  over  m)-  frail,  trembling  bark." 

The  wind  howled  around  the  house.  The  sleet  and 
rain  blew  in  torrents  against  the  window  pane.  I  woke 
with  a  strange  foreboding  of  evil.  I  must  work 
before  it  was  too  late!  must  plan  some  means  of  escape 
from  our  present  dangerous  life.  To  the  asylum  I  felt 
Mr.  Roderick's  people  would  not  let  him  go,  and  though 
I  did  not  wish  to  leave  him  only  in  peace  and  good  will, 
yet  for  the  safety  of  myself  and  children  we  could  not 
remain  in  his  power.  I  proposed  to  him  that  myself  and 
daughters  go  into  the  millinery  business  in  the  city  of  Ashe- 
ville.  As  it  was  to  make  money  he  acquiesced  to  our  plans 
very  readily,  and  we  began  to  make  preparations  to  open 
the  business.  When  all  was  in  readiness,  he  seemed  to 
just  realize  that  we  were  leaving  him,  and  positively  re- 
fused to  let  us  go.  Father  witnessed  several  exhibitions 
of  Mr.  Roderick's  fits  of  madness  while  he  was  visiting 
us  at  Stella's  marriage,  staying  three  weeks  thereafter. 
One  in  particular  I  will  mention.  Father  was  seated  by 
the  fire  one  cold  morning  when  Mr.  Roderick  came  in. 
Flashing  into  a  passion  at  the  sight  of  us,  he  turned  upon 


270  ONE  woman's  life, 

me  with  the  most  violent  gesticulations,  calling  me  vile 
names  and  raving  in  the  wildest,  most  demoniacal  rage- 
Father  slipped  out  of  the  door  and  picked  up  a  rock  and 
waited  to  see  if  he  would  strike  me.  He  would  have 
killed  him  if  he  had.  But  Mr.  Roderick  was  too  sagacious 
for  that  and  dared  not  strike.  Father  afterwards  said  that 
he  needed  no  further  proof  of  his  insanity,  and  would  do  all 
in  his  power  to  get  him  into  an  asylum.  He  left  us  with 
that  object  in  view,  giving  his  own  affidavit  and  getting  all 
others  possible.  But  his  letters  to  me  were  intercepted, 
and  for  weeks  I  heard  nothing  from  him,  though  he  wrote 
repeatedly.  He  was  taken  ill  with  pneumonia  fever,  to 
which  he  seemed  doomed  every  winter,  so  seldom  he 
ever  escaped.  He  left  me  upon  a  bed  of  sickness,  quite 
worn  out  with  work  before  Stella's  wedding,  and  then 
exposure  since  she  left  trying  to  provide  for  and  teach 
the  children.  Cold  on  my  lungs,  fever  and  rheuma- 
tism had  me  in  their  grasp,  and  I  lay  upon  a  helpless  bed 
of  suffering.  My  hands  became  drawn  with  rheumatism 
so  T  could  not  use  them.  So  all  the  comforts  I  had  pro- 
vided were  exhausted.  The  house  was  left  cold  and 
cheerless,  and  the  food  brought  me  I  could  not  eat.  The 
children  had  all  started  to  school  except  Celeste,  the 
youngest,  who  remained  with  me.  Mr.  Roderick  had  never 
liked  Celeste,  and  had  no  patience  with  her ;  and  worse 
than  all  were  his  strange  and  horrible  actions  while  the  chil- 
dren were  absent  at  school.  Stella  and  father  gone,  and 
only  frail,  timid  Celeste  and  myself  to  meet  his  wrath.  I 
could  not  bear  that  the  children  should  lose  any  opportu- 
nity of  school,  so  begged  Celeste  not  to  give  way  to  fear, 
but  bear  up  bravely  until  the  weather  brightened  and  my 


HORROR.  271 

father  and   myself  recovered   sufficiently  to  have  some 
steps  taken  to  save  us. 

Mr.  Roderick  was  looking  bad — pale  and  more  hao-- 
gard  than  ever.  He  would  now  rise  in  the  morning 
groaning,  muttering,  and  quarrelsome,  or  else  sullen  and 
contrary.  Immediately  after  breakfast,  when  Celeste 
and  I  were  alone,  the  other  children  gone  to  school,  he 
would  ofien  come  into  our  room  and  burst  forth  with  a 
tirade  of  abuse  in  a  most  shocking  manner,  coming  toward 
us  with  head  thrown  back,  face  hvid,  eyes  rolling  and 
glowering  murderously,  his  arms  raised  to  strike.  I 
would  look  undaunted  right  into  his  eyes,  which  would 
seem  to  arrest  him,  and  he  would  turn  away  mutterino- 
some  blood-curdling  threat,  cursing  and  jerking  as  he 
walked.  Celeste  clung  to  me,  pale  and  trembling,  not 
for  fear  for  herself  but  for  me;  and  though  I  begged  her 
to  leave  me  at  those  times,  she  never  would,  saying, 
"  Mother,  if  father  strikes  you,  he  will  strike  over  my 
body.     I  will  die  to  save  you." 

A  fearful  blizzard  swept  over  our  section  of  the  coun- 
try, and  the  board  roof  having  warped  from  sun  and 
rain,  the  snow  and  sleet  blew  in  in  great  quantities,  so 
that  the  children's  beds,  standing  near  the  warm  chim- 
ney, were  saturated  with  the  melting  snow,  which  froze 
from  the  intensely  cold  wind  blowing  in  almost  as  fast  as 
it  thawed. 

The  children  awaking  arid  finding  their  beds  one 
mass  of  ice,  snow  and  wet  clothing,  the  wind  howling 
outside,  while  snow  and  sleet  beat  wildly  in  their  faces, 
called  me,  alarmed  at  their  condition.  Their  father, 
aroused  from  his  sleep,  bade  them  lie  still — a  command 
they  could   not  obey,  and  they  begged  me  to  come  to 


272  ONE  woman's  life. 

them.  Mr.  Roderick,  infuriated  beyond  control  over 
their  persistency,  threatened  and  screamed  in  madding 
passion.  His  threats  forcing  the  children  to  tears,  who 
were  groping  about  in  the  dark  and  the  snow,  afraid  to 
come  down  and  unable  to  be  quiet,  I  quietly  slipped  up 
stairs  to  bring  them  down  to  the  fire.  The  snow  lay 
about  in  piles  over  the  floor  and  bed.  After  examining 
Ernest's  little  room  and  making  it  more  comfortable  for 
him,  I  started  with  the  three  trembUng  girls  to  face  Mr. 
Roderick.  Unfortunately  my  foot  slipped  on  some  snow 
^t  the  top  step.  Falling,  I  caught  with  one  arm  in  the 
balusters,  but  the  entire  weight  of  my  body  gave  it  such 
a  strain  I  had  to  sit  down  and  moan  in  agony,  while  the 
children  huddled  about  me  in  the  dark  and  cold,  weeping 
in  terror  and  grief.  Mr.  Roderick's  voice  rose  above 
the  storm  without,  in  threats  and  names,  shaking  his  bed 
and  jarring  the  house,  striking  and  beating  with  his  fists 
in  the  violence  of  his  passion,  making  a  scene  never  to  be 
erased  from  the  minds  of  those  participating  in  the  ago- 
nies of  that  horrible  night.  In  the  morning  we  found  the 
children's  bed  buried  in  snow  and  ice,  and  the  snow  meas- 
ured four  inches  on  the  floor. 

Not  only  was  he  cross  and  cruel  to  myself  and  the 
girls,  but  Ernest  was  often  subjected  to  the  same  mad, 
horrible  treatment.  Happening  to  speak  discouragingly 
about  the  crops  one  day,  Ernest  brought  down  his  fath- 
er's wrath  in  torrents  on  his  head.  Heaving  to  work  so 
hard  and  receive  nothing  in  return,  not  even  his  clothes, 
it  was  quite  natural  he  should  feel  discouraged.  His 
father  raved  in  a  most  frantic  manner,  calling  names  and 
threatening.  Seizing  a  stick  he  began  to  beat  Ernest^ 
who  quickly  got  out  of  his  way.     Such  scenes  as  these 


HORROR.  273 

served  me  as  they  did  Stella  before  she  left — so  unnerved 
her  that  she  would  drop  faint  upon  a  chair  unable  to 
move  or  speak.  My  nervous  system  was  shocked  almost 
beyond  endurance,  yet  what  could  I  do?  I  thought  of 
the  sad  fate  of  a  3^oung  wife  in  our  community,  and  an 
old  friend  of  mine,  tortured  and  abused  by  her  hus- 
band, until  in  the  despair  of  her  heart  she  forsook  her 
young  babe  and  went  and  hanged  herself.  Could  I  go 
and  do  likewise ?  Was  it  not  a  temptation,  with  my  daily 
life  a  curse  to  m.e?  Tortured  into  ill  health  and  almost 
madness,  could  I  help  thinking  of  this  one  means  of  es- 
cape? Madding,  indeed,  the  thought!  Reason  would 
say,  no;  mother-love,  no;  and,  above  all,  the  Holy 
Spirit  of  God  within  my  soul,  no;  calming  the  passion, 
the  despair  of  human  frailty,  and  I  was  saved  from  a 
wrecked  mind  and  suicide. 

"  My  soul  crieth  out  in  its  anguish 
Lord,  earest  thou  not  that  I  die  ? 
When  lo,  o'er  the  storm-driven  billow, 
My  Saviour  himself  draweth  nigh." 

With  this  message,  "  Let  not  your  hearts  be  troubled, 
ye  believe  in  God,  believe  also  in  me,"  etc.  Over  and 
over  again  I  drank  in  these  words  and  it  calmed  and 
saved  me.  Daily  seeking  God's  guidance  through 
prayer  and  his  Word,  I  often  arose  at  midnight  to  calm 
my  wounded  spirit  with  his  peaceful,  sweet  comforting 
words.  Aye,  and  there  in  that  dear  book  can  all  so 
tempted  find  solace  and  healing  for  every  wound.  If 
every  suicide  had  read  with  faith  God's  Word  the  mo- 
ment before  he  took  his  life,  there  would  be  no  suicides, 
not  with  sane  people.  This  one  chapter  in  particular 
seemed  to  bring  me  sweet  peace,  the  14th  chapter  of  St. 
18 


274  ONE  woman's  life. 

John.  This  was  my  comfort  and  saved  my  soul  from 
despair.  I  had  never  indulged  in  any  habit  of  morphine 
-or  opiates,  and  was  not  tempted  in  that  way — not  even 
taking  anything  to  alleviate  bodily  pain  and  to  give  sleep, 
which  so  often  left  me  being  determined  no  habit  should 
>become  my  master.  And  those  who  seek  such  habits 
to  drown  trouble,  as  they  say,  only  add  fuel  to  the  fire, 
when  if  they  had  only  turned  to  the  source  of  all  bless- 
ings, such  beautiful  peace  would  have  filled  their  souls, 
and  they  would  have  counted   it  all  joy  that  they  were 

•  permitted  to  suffer  with  those  who  have  suffered,  aye, 
more  than  it  is  possible  for  human  heart  to  endure. 
It  is  not  the  history  of  the  saints  that  have  passed 
through  this  life  ^'on  flowery  beds  of  ease,"  and  our  suf- 
ferings here  must  fit  us  for  a  higher  sphere  of  life  here- 
after. It  is  an  honor  to  us  that  God  counts  us  worthy 
to  suffer. 

•  "Oh,  fear  not  in  a  world  like  tliis. 

And  thou  shall  know  ere  long, 
Know  how  sublime  a  thing  it  is 
To  suffer  and  grow  strong." 

My  children's  pleading  faces,  that  now  so  seldom 
smiled,  were  continually  calling  me  back,  back  to  their 
rescue. 

Mr.  Roderick  kept  a  sly  watch  upon  my  every  action, 
slipping  about  with  his  catHke  tread,  and  peering  in  at 
doors  and  windows  with  a  cunning,  sharp  look.  His 
small,  deep,  piercing  eyes  flashing  in  wild  restless  eager- 
ness, with  that  sinister,  malicious,  evil  expression  on  his 
face  which  so  often  excited  our  dread  and  fear.  Often  a 
mirthless  cackle  of  a  laugh  as  he  discovered  us,  or  with 
jeering  taunts  he  would  turn  a.wa.y.  To  be  caged  thus  with 
one  acting  like  a  maniac  filled  me   with  such  horror  that 


HORROR.  275 

all  the  old  fear  and  dread  that  I  had  when  I  first  discov- 
ered him  insane  returned.  One  day  of  horror  Celeste  and 
myself  hid  all  day  from  Mr.  Roderick,  and  watched  him 
from  dark  corners  as  he  worked,  talking  and  muttering 
to  himself.  I  felt  some  immediate  step  must  be  taken 
for  our  safety.  The  roads  were  filled  with  ice  and  snow 
so  Stella  could  not  come  and  I  could  not  send  to  father. 
So  I  decided  to  go  to  my  friend  Mrs.  Tolbert  for  pro- 
tection, and  tell  her  my  fears  and  condition  and  ask  her 
assistance.  Celeste  was  daily  growing  thinner  and  paler, 
her  appetite  failed  and  her  pale  face  haunted  my  sleep- 
ing and  waking  hours.  Through  the  child's  entreaties  I 
had  stopped  the  children  from  school  to  be  with  us.  Mr. 
Roderick  immediately  objected  and  forced  them  back  to 
school,  but  they  would  hasten  home  in  the  evenings  in 
alarm  and  terror  for  our  safety. 

Celeste's  condition  grew  worse,  her  smiles  ceased  al- 
together and  a  great  shadow  fell  over  her  young  life. 
The  weather  became  so  bad  I  could  not  get  word  to  my 
friends — the  severest  weather  we  had  yet  known  in  the 
South.  The  rigors  of  a  mountain  winter  were  upon  us, 
and  we  were  shut  in  from  our  friends,  alone  with  a 
maniac.  Celeste  was  now  counting  the  days  until  school 
closed,  so  great  was  her  terror.  She  watched  her  fath- 
er's every  movement,  and  when  he  came  near  me  she 
determined  to  risk  her  own  life  to  save  mine.  This  con- 
stant care  and  devotion  won  my  deepest  love  and  appre- 
ciation and  was  never  forgotten. 

When  the  weather  brightened  Stella  made  us  a  short 
visit,  advised  us  to  leave,  saying  she  would  render  any 
aid  in  her  power.  "  Go  to  some  of  the  neighbors  and 
stay,  and  write  me  your  plans  and  I  will  do  all  I  can  to 


276  ONE  woman's  life, 

help  you."  One  week  more  of  school,  then  I  proposed 
to  Mr.  Roderick  that  he,  Celeste  and  myself,  spend  some 
time  with  one  of  our  friends.  He  gladly  consented  and 
we  spent  a  few  days  with  Mrs.  Heard  and  others.  No 
trace  of  Mr.  Roderick's  evil,  insane  nature  was  now  vis- 
ible ;  his  "  company  manners"  on  as  usual.  He  ca- 
ressed and  pitied  Celeste,  and  talked  of  the  children,  and 
I  was  "my  dear." 

But  I  told  them  privately  how  he  had  been  acting  and 
our  fearful  -  condition  at  home.  They  replied  that  they 
had  occasionally  noticed  at  church  the  wild  look  in  his 
eyes  and  now  knew  I  must  be  right — that  he  was  insane. 

When  Mr.  Roderick  said  he  must  return  home,  they 
urged  him  to  permit  Celeste  and  myself  to  remain  a  few 
days  longer.  This  they  did  to  give  me  an  opportunity  to 
go  to  Marion  and  consult  doctors  and  lawyers  as  to  the 
proper  course  to  take. 

I  thought  now  I  would  not  receive  much  opposition 
from  Mr.  Roderick's  people,  as  only  a  short  while  before 
they,  having  heard  his  screams  at  home,  I  said  to  them 
that  I  thought  he  was  insane.  They  answered,  "Yes, 
his  spells  are  worse,  and  as  he  grows  older  he  may  be- 
come dangerous.  You  must  come  to  us  when  he  gets 
bad,  come  to  us  for  protection."  So  I  thought  they 
might  sustain  me  in  the  step  I  was  taking. 

Arriving  in  Marion,  I  found  my  physical  strength  less 
than  I  had  calculated  upon  and  could  scarcely  walk  the 
streets  without  tottering.  I  consulted  my  lawyer,  Colonel 
Clair,  who  advised  me  to  get  out  a  warrant  for  insanity 
and  have  Mr.  Roderick  brought  before  the  physicians  of 
the  city  for  examination.  Then  I  applied  to  the  county 
physician,  who  promised  to-put  him  in  the  insane  asylum  if 


HORROR.  277 

I  gained  the  consent  of  as  many  as  two  of  his  relatives.  I 
had  kept  the  matter  as  quiet  as  possible  and  requested 
them  net  to  mention  it.  Returning  to  one  of  our  neigh- 
bors, I  spent  the  night.  Next  morning  I  was  surprised 
and  distressed  to  see  Marie  and  Celeste  coming  to  the 
house  in  tears. 

Sobbing  convulsively,  they  told  how  their  father  had 
already  heard  of  my  business  in  the  city,  and  that  I  had 
a  warrant  issued  for  his  arrest,  and  had  sent  them  after 
me  to  return  immediately. 

As  we  passed  the  school  Ernest  came  out  and  accom- 
panied us  home  bravely  intending  to  defend  us  if  within 
his  ability.  The  children  stated  that  their  father  flew 
into  a  passion  and  uttered  many  threats  against  me. 
I  well  knew  what  to  expect.  Imagine  my  surprise  when 
I  reached  the  house.  Mr.  Roderick  received  me  pleas- 
antly, but  sullenly.  After  talking  a  while  he  said  :  "  I 
understand  that  you  have  sworn  out  a  warrant  against 
me  for  insanity.  I  am  aware  of  the  fact  that  something 
is  the  matter  with  me,  and  perhaps  it  would  do  me  good 
to  be  treated,  so  if  you  will  give  me  a  few  days  I  will 
prepare  to  go." 

Innocent  of  any  scheme  of  evil,  I  promised  him  two 
weeks'  time  in  which  to  get  ready,  not  knowing  that  his 
people  had  made  this  plot  in  order  to  defeat  me.  The 
children  afterwards  told  me  that  his  sisters  and  his  neph- 
ews had  been  there  talking  a  long  time  out  in  the  yard 
with  their  father,  and  they  feared  the  worst.  I  deter- 
mined to  do  my  duty  and  to  tell  Rachel  all  about  him 
and  my  great  fears,  hoping  to  reach  a  tender  chord  in 
her  heart  to  save  my  children.  I  could  leave,  but  it  was 
lor  them  that  I  must  enlist  their  sympathy.  She  advised 
me  to  go  if  I  felt  unable  to  bear  his  treatment,  but  the 


278  ONE  woman's  life. 

children,  she  said  must  stay  and  take  care  of  their  father. 
She  charged  Bertha  and  Celeste  not  to  say  one  word 
against  their  father,  commanding  them  to  obey  her.  No,  I 
said,  I  will  not  do  this  under  any  circumstances.  It  is  for 
the  children  I  suffer,  not  for  myself.  Mr.  Roderick  now 
raved  incessantly.  No  letters  were  permitted  to  leave  the 
house  without  his  inspection,  and  the  children  were  not 
allowed  to  carry  any  for  me.  My  brain  seemed  on  fire 
with  the  horror  of  our  situation.  What  could  we  do  ? 
What  step  could  we  take  ?  My  father  had  recovered 
his  usual  health  and  now  wrote  me  what  he  thought 
best  for  us  to  do  and  that  he  would  come  -with 
help.  The  postmaster  was  a  friend  of  Mr.  Roderick's 
and  reserved  the  letters,  giving  them  only  to  him,  who 
opened  and  read  them,  never  delivering  them  to  me. 
The  children  were  forbidden  to  carry  any  letters  to  or 
from  the  ofhce,  and  all  were  intercepted  ;  thus  all  com- 
munication with  my  friends  was  cut  off.  Mr.  Roderick 
and  his  nephews,  two  strong,  powerful  men,  now  rode  all 
over  the  country  making  fun  of  and  making  many  false 
statements  about  me.  One,  that  I  had  stolen  valuable 
mail  from  the  post-ofRce,  and  the  postmaster  even  came 
to  the  house  accusing  me  of  it,  saying  that  I  would  have 
to  go  to  the  penitentiary,  and  tried  to  make  me  acknowl- 
edge that  I  had  robbed  the  mails;  their  object  being  to 
frighten  me  into  owning  to  some  wrong-doing  that  they 
might  have  something  that  would  weaken  my  evidence  in 
court.  Of  course  I  knew  nothing  about  the  mail,  nor  had 
any  opportunity  to  do  so,  or  to  even  cause  any  suspicion. 
The  postmaster  who  helped  in  this  slander  afterwards  lost 
his  position  by  being  charged  with  the  same  offense  he 
tried  to  accuse  me  of.  Marie,  just  verging  into  woman- 
hood, being  sixteen  years   of    age,  wept  piteously  over 


HORROR.  27d 

these  accusations  against  her  mother,  whom  she  felt  was 
all  that  was  expected  of  true  womanhood.  Often  she 
would  stand  over  me  as  I  lay  upon  the  bed,  too  sick  to 
sit  up,  saying,  "Mother,  how  can  I  bear  it  !  To  have 
my  pure,  true  mother  so  talked  about!  I  cannot  endure 
it."  My  only  reply  was,  "  The  Lord  is  my  helper  and  I 
will  not  fear  what  man  can  do  unto  me." 

Mr.  Roderick  was  daily  more  cruel.  Would  not  per- 
mit the  children  to  come  near  now  nor  wait  upon  me,  nor 
show  any  kindness  whatever,  talking  and  trying  to  turn 
them  from  me;  he  talked  to  Ernest  and  told  him  such 
awful  falsehoods  to  turn  him  against  me;  they  did  anything 
and  all  they  could  do,  that  they  might  take  my  children 
away  from  me.  But  the  children  never  answered  a  word, 
nor  for  a  moment  doubted  their  mother.  Mr.  Roderick 
would  get  the  Bible  and  compel  them  to  read,  then 
he  would  get  up  and  preach  sermons  and  make  sarcastic 
remarks  about  us  all  in  the  same  breath  ;  groaning,  moan- 
ing, gesticulating  wildly,  laughing  that  dry,  hard  laugh, 
and  looking  'so  thoroughly  the  cunning  maniac  that  the 
children  were  frightened  into  tears  and  often  made  sick 
by  these  severe  nervous  shocks,  they  became  deathly  pale 
and  grew  thin  and  nervous,  shuddering  when  they  heard  his 
footsteps  approaching.  Harriet's  angry  face  would  often 
peer  in  at  us  from  door  or  window,  with  loud  threats 
and  abusive  language,  adding  to  our  wretchedness. 

Not  a  friend's  face  shadowed  our  door,  not  for  days 
and  weeks  ;  not  even  hearing  from  Stella,  as  my  letters 
to  her  were  intercepted.  Ah!  those  terrible  days  of 
longing  for  one  kind  familiar  face,  one  word  of  hope 
of  comfort !  One  evening  after  supper,  Mr.  Rod- 
erick's big,  burley  nephew,  together  with  his  sister  Har- 
• 


280  ONE  woman's  life. 

riet,  came  in,  presumably  to  sit  until  bedtime.  The  real 
object  of  their  visit  was  soon  apparent  when  Mr.  Rode- 
rick began  taunting  and  quarreling  at  me  about  getting 
out  a  warrant  against  him.  The  others  jomed  in,  and  soon 
I  was  in  a  perfect  Bedlam.  They  had  their  victim  sur- 
rounded and  helpless.  Mr.  Roderick  now  took  the  floor 
and  said,  "Now,  madam,  you  have  had  your  way  just  as 
long  as  1  am  going  to  permit  it  !  I'll  show  you  who  is 
boss  in  this  house  and  of  these  children!  Books,  fine 
clothes  and  all  such  folderol  is  at  an  end,  do  you  hear  ? 
I'll  teach  them  some  sense.  Send  them  to  the  field  to 
work,  where  they  ought  to  be  clearing  land  and  doing 
something  that  will  make  them  some  account.  They 
shall  work  and  take  care  of  me,  every  one  of  them,  until 
they  are  twenty-one.  Do  you  hear  that,  madam?"  he 
screamed.  Dancing  around  the  room,  he  seized  his  old 
hat  and  began  slashingme  across  the  headand  face,  calling 
names  too  malignant  to  repeat,  the  nephew  and  aun, 
urging  him  on.  This  was  the  scene  they  had  planned 
and  they  were  gloating  over  it.  Their  "brother  Jake 
should  beat  such  a  wife  as  that." 

Celeste  trembling  crept  to  my  side  and  sat  down,  de- 
termined to  shield  me  if  she  could.  This  only  infuriated 
her  father,  who  roared  at  her  to  go  away,  the  others  join- 
ing in  the  command.  But  she  looked  them  bravely  in  the 
face  and  sat  still  until  I,  fearing  for  her  safety,  requested 
her  to  leave  the  room.  He  now  stood  over  me  beating 
me  with  his  hat  until  his  nephew,  seeing  his  infuriated 
passion,  came  to  the  rescue  and  took  Mr.  Roderick  out 
into  the  yard,  where  they  had  a  long  consultation.  Next 
day  I  told  Mr.  Roderick  that  I  would  withdraw  the  war- 
rant.    He    promised  to  do  better.     I    thought  the  with- 

k 


HORROR.  281 

drawal  would  be  some  protection  from  him,  but  not  for 
long  as  was  soon  proved.  If  possible  he  grew  worse.  I 
could  not  get  away  now ;  I  was  too  sick  to  walk.  The  child- 
ren could  perhaps  save  themselves  by  running  away  but 
they  would  not  leave  me.  Prayer  alone  was  the  only  so- 
lace. Not  a  ray  of  light  seemed  to  brighten  our  path- 
way. I  begged  the  children  to  pray.  Pray  continually,  I 
said.  God  alone  is  our  helper.  Each  day  they  would 
take  their  Bible  and  steal  off  into  the  woods  and  prayj 
returning  they  would  try  to  comfort  me  with  the  assur- 
ance that  they  knew  their  prayers  would  be  answered. 
Especially  was  Marie  confident  that  help  would  soon 
come.  Ernest  had  become  melancholy  and  nothing 
seemed  to  comfort  him,  and  would  often  sit  with  his  head  in 
his  hands  and  not  say  a  word.  He  seemed  in  depair. 
When  his  father  had  attempted  to  beat  him  some  time  be- 
fore he  had  declared  he  would  run  away.  I  had  begged 
him  out  of  it,  as  he  was  our  only  protector  now.  Spirit- 
ual-minded Marie  was  a  great  comfort  with  her  perfect 
faith  and  love. 

Mr.  Roderick's  sister  Jane  came  and  began  discussing 
the  warrant  business.  I  said  to  her:  "You  are  all  now  try- 
ing to  prevent  my  proving  your  brother  insane,  but  if  he 
should  murder  one  of  us  in  his  fits  you  would  then  do  all 
in  your  power  to  prove  him  a  raving  maniac  and  save 
him  from  hanging.  Remember,  if  such  is  the  case,  that  I 
said  to  you  that  I  did  not  want  him  hanged,  not  if  he  kills 
every  one  of  us,  for  he  is  at  times  insane.'^  She  answered 
not,  for, she  knew  the  truth  of  my  words. 

The  children  were  kept  under  strict  surveillance  and 
not  allowed  to  speak  of  me,  not  even  to  mention  my 
sickness.      I  grew. so  much  worse  that  I  at  last  give  up 


282  ONE  woman's  life. 

and  wanted  them  to  leave  me  to  die.  What  had  the  fu- 
ture for  me,  chained  to  a  maniac,  or  go  away  again 
to  hospitals,  to  the  hard  world  I  disliked  so  much.  Even 
though  kindly  treated  at  the  hospitals,  it  was  not  home  nor 
pleasure  to  be  there.  I  wanted  my  children  and  home — did 
not  want  to  give  them  up  ;  be  it  ever  so  humble,  it  was 
a  shield  from  the  world.  Out  into  the  world  it  was  a 
strug;gle  for  shelter  and  food;  and  also  for  friends;  a  home- 
less stranger,  doomed  to  walk  and  sit  alone  ;  subjected 
to  cruel  criticisms,  rebuffs  and  persecutions,  trying  to 
get  people  to  believe  my  story  and  see  things  as  they  really 
were  ;  to  believe,  to  trust  me!  Oh  it  would  be  so  sweet  to 
die,  and  rest — rest  in  Jesus'  arms — rest  in  heaven — rest 
in  the  quiet  grave.  Oh!  let  me  die!  I  begged  my  chil- 
dren to  cease  their  urging  me  to  make  further  attempts 
for  them  and  my  life.  Let  me  die!  Let  me  pass  away 
even  in  all  the  horror  of  dying  friendless,  despised,  per- 
secuted, and  neglected,  in  the  hands  of  an  apparent  ma- 
niac. It  was  death  I  longed  for,  death  I  craved!  My 
children  could  then  run  away — they  were  young  and  now 
could  manage.  My  poor  girls  became  wild  with  grief 
and  sobbed  in  anguish.  Celeste  bursting  forth  in  passion- 
ate weeping,  alarming  to  hear,  "Mother  if  you  die  I  shall 
kill  myself;  all  hope  will  be  gone  from  us  forever!  Moth- 
er, all  plead,  we  rather  have  you  alive,  even  if  sep- 
arated from  us,  than  all  the  world  beside!  Mother,  go 
away  and  live  for  us!  Do  not  give  up,  we  beg,  beseech 
you  to  leave  us,  and  live  for  our  sakes!  Do  not  remain 
to  certain  death  !  What  will  we  do  without  our 
mother  ?" 

Bertha  said  that  if  I  would  only  go  away  and  save  my- 
self and  her  sisters,  she  would  sacrifice  herself  stay  and 


HORROR.  283 

bear  it  to  save  us.    She  was  less  sensitive  than  her  sisters 
and  ever  unselfish  and  strong. 

Before  she  was  the  first  child  to  want  to  go  with  me, 
and  now  ready  to  sacrifice  herself  to  save  the  rest  of  us. 
But  I  seemed  lost  to  their  presence  and  pleading,  and 
looking  beyond,  felt  unequal  to  again  take  up  the  burden 
of  life.  Worn,  wearied  spirit,  longing  for  the  heavenly- 
shore  !  The  presence  of  Christ  and  his  angels  hovered 
o'er  me,  and  I  felt  a  perfect  peace  and  a  lifting  up  above  the 
horrors  of  our  situation.  Knowing  now  that  God  had 
heard  our  prayers,  I  felt  submissive  to  his  will;  whatever 
that  might  be,  I  knew  it  would  be  well.  Remain,  die,  and 
leave  the  children,  or  go  away,  live  and  struggle  on.  Thy 
will  be  done,  O  Lord.  The  question  was  settled  with  me, 
and  left  in  the  hand  of  the  One  better  able  to  direct  it.  A 
complete  resignation  to  the  divine  will,  and  I  was  lifted  m 
my  Savior's  arms  to  realms  of  light  and  bliss,  known 
only  to  those  who  have  suffered  such  anguish  as  mine 
and  the  following  lines  formed  in  my  mind: 

Only  in  Jesus'  love  are  we  blest 
Only  in  Jesus  hope  we  tor  rest, 
Only  witli  Jesus,  there  ever  to  be, 
Savior  of  sinners,  O!   hide  us  in  Thee. 

Only  with  Jesus   burdens  we  share. 

Only  our  Jesus   truly  doth  care. 

Only  can  Jesus   feel  every  woe. 

More  of  our  Savior  we're  longing  to  know. 

In  reply  to  my  children's  anxious  questionmg,  1  said 
"I  am  resting  upon  my  God  and  await  his  will."  Long- 
ingly they  waited,  watched  and  prayed,  hovering  about 
my  bed  (in  their  father's  absence)  with  loving  words  and 
tender  caresses:  they  felt  it  right  for  me  to  go  and  believ- 
ed God  would  open  the  way.  "Mother"  cried  Marie,  one 


284  ONE  woman's  life. 

day,  "ihe  way  is  opened.  See,  Stella  and  Mr. 
Lyman  are  coming!  Now  you  must  go!  Will  you  not  ? 
God  hath  sent  them  in  answer  to  our  prayers,  and  you 
must  go."  I  could  not  doubt  but  this  was  his  will  and 
the  right  course  to  pursue  ;  for  their  sakes  I  made  ready. 

Stella,  after  a  long  suspense  and  waiting,  had  at  last 
received  the  letter  I  had  sent  to  the  post-office  by  Bertha. 
Pinning  the  letter  in  the  waist  of  her  dress,  the  placid- 
looking  child  passed  unsuspected  to  the  furthest  post- 
office  and  posted  it.  This  letter^Stella  received  and 
came  at  once. 

Away  from  the  children  I  knew  I  could  not  write 
and  receive  letters  without  their  father's  inspection,  so  we 
agreed  upon  certain  signs  and  letters  that  we  only  could 
understand  and  their  suspicions  would   not  be  aroused. 

Thus  we  could  keep  each  other  informed  all  about 
ourselves;  then,  too,  Stella  would  visit  the  children  as  often 
as  possible  until  I  was  able  to  attend  to  having  Mr. 
Roderick  sent  to  the  asylum,  or  get  them  away  from  him. 

The  parting  was  indeed  distressing.  My  heart  was  torn 
with  terrible  emotions  at  leaving  these  helpless,  weeping 
children  at  the  cruel  mercy  of  their  father.  Although  they 
wanted  me  to  go,  they  could  not  control  their  grief  at  the 
parting.  Mr.  Roderick  was  restrained  by  the  presence  of 
Mr.  Lyman,  and  thought  I  was  only  going  to  the  hospital; 
knowing  I  would  return  if  he  kept  the  children.  He  came 
out  into  the  yard,  however,  and  stated  if  I  went  it  was 
against  his  will  and  he  did  not  approve  of  it  at  all.  I  bade 
Ernest — pale  sad-faced  Ernest — to  look  after  his  sis- 
ters' welfare  and  protect  them  with  all  his  strength. 
The  dear  boy  promised  to  do  all  he  could.  *'0h  my  dar- 
ings I  go  for  your  dear  sakes.       Trust  to  God, — he  will 


HORROR.  285 


keep  you.  Study  all  you  can.  Read  your  Bible  and  pray 
always!  Hope  in  Jesus,  and  trust  to  my  love  and  untir- 
ing efforts  in  your  behalf.  Good-bye,  my  darlings^, 
good-bye!" 

"In  the  midst  of  wild  tossing  billows 

Is  one  place  of  sweet  perfect  peace, 
"Where  the  dear  Loving  Master  abidest, 

The  storms  and  the  tempests  must  cease. 

So  I  walk  by  the  still  quiet  waters, 
Even  tho'  the  dark  billows  may  roll, 

If  only  my  Lord  is  beside  me, 
If  only  his  peace  fills  my  soul." 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  END. 


"HE    CARETH.    ' 

"What  can  it  mean?     Is  it  aught  to  Him 
That  the  nights  are  long  and  the  days  are  dim, 
Can  He  be  touched  by  the  griefs  I  bear, 
Which  sadden  the  heart  and  whiten  the  hair? 
Around  His  throne  are  eternal  calm. 
And  strong,  glad  music  of  happy  psalms, 
And  bliss  unruffled  by  any  strife. 
How  cam  He  care  for  my  little  life? 

And  yet  I  want  Him  to  care  for  me, 
While  I  live  in  this  world  where  the  sorrows  be. 
Where  the  lights  die  down  from  the  path  I  take, 
Where  strength  is  feeble  and  friends  forsake. 

Wihere  love  and  music  that  once  did  bless 
Have  left  me  to  silence  and  loneliness. 
And  my  life-song  changes  to  sobbing  prayers. 
Then  my  heart  cries  out  for  a  God  who  cares. 
He  lifts  the  burden,  for  He  is  strong, 
He  stills  the  sigh  and  awakens  the  song; 
The  sorrows  that  bowed  me  down  he  bears. 
And  loves  and  pardons  because  He  cares." 


my  children,  how  can  I  leave  you  so? 
Oh,  my  children !  My  heart  seemed  break- 
ing, and  I  turned  for  a  last  look  at  the 
four  dear  faces  watched  by  the  gloomy, 
stern  one  beside  them. 
Three  bright,  golden-haired  girls,  too  timid  and  deli- 
cate for  their  hard  life,  and  a  boy  of  a  mild  and  peaceful 


THE    BEGINNING    OF   THE    END.  287 

spirit,  strangel}'  unlike  his  father,  all  left  without  one 
friend  to  whom  they  could  turn  in  any  emergency.  En- 
tirely helpless — no  earthly  aid ;  only  in  God  could  I  hope 
for  their  safety.  I  also  felt  sorry  for  Mr.  Roderick, 
whose  demon  of  insanity  had  wrecked  the  lives  of  all 
belonging  to  him,  and  who  in  some  future  time  would 
suffer  entire  separation  from  those  who  could  have  been 
his  chief  comfort.  I  had  approached  him  with  kind 
words  at  parting,  but  the  evil  spirit  within  him  prompted 
a  cruel  reply;  and  thus  we  separated  in  coldness. 

In  Marion  I  did  not  even  mention  the  subject  to  one 
person,  for  the  men  knew  Mr.  Roderick's  side  only,  and 
while  they  knew  it  an  uncongenial  marriage  and  prob- 
ably did  '  not  blame  me  for  leaving,  yet  they  were 
generally  in  sympathy  with  Mr.  Roderick  as  regards  the 
children.  I  felt,  too,  that  anything  I  said  then  might 
reach  Mr.  Roderick's  ears.  The  only  safety  for  the 
children  was  to  keep  down  those  mad  fits  of  his.  I  was 
altogether  too  weak  and  ill  to  discuss  the  matter,  was 
physically  unable  to  do  anything  yet,  and  skillful  med- 
ical treatment  and  rest  were  necessary  first. 

Stella  and  her  husband  paid  me  every  attention,  as  did 
also  my  friends  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Seymore.  Resting  with 
them  I  soon  recovered  enough  strength  to  proceed  to 
Asheville  to  physicians  for  skillful  treatment  to  restore  me 
to  health,  with  letters  of  introduction  from  Mrs.  Seymore 
to  many  of  her  friends  and  physicians  in  Asheville;  also  a 
good  letter  from  Bishop  Cheshier,  who  gave  me  a  high 
recommendation  and  introduction  to  Mr.  Dubose  and  the 
people  of  that  city.  I  had  appealed  to  a  minister  and 
one  or  two  business  men  in  Marion  for  a  letter,  but  they 
refused,  saying  I  ought  to  go  back  to  my  husband — not 


288  ONE  woman's  life. 

knowing  but  one  side.  So  where  Mr.  Roderick's  influ- 
ence could  be  felt,  I  could  accomplish  but  little.  His 
was  the  most  perfect  double  character  I  ever  knew. 

Soon  after  m}'  arrival  in  Asheville  I  received  a  letter 
from  my  dear  mother,  which  impressed  me  very  much. 
Some  extracts  I  give  below : 

"You  think  me  a  true  prophet.  You  know  my 
prophecy  of  old  did  come  true.  Well,  here  I  say  again, 
only  trust  and  all  will  come  to  pass  yet.  Read  37th 
Psalm.  You  know  how  often  you  and  I  have  read  it 
together.  Don't  talk  about  dying.  You  will  not  die — 
3'^ou  must  not  die.  You  have  not  accomplished  your 
mission  yet,  '  Call  her  not  hence  with  mission  unful- 
filled. Oh,  leave  her  here  and  give  her  time  to  do  thy 
holy  will.' 

"  What  would  become  of  your  children  and  me.'^ 
Why,  you  are  the  central  figure  around  which  all 
my  earthly  hopes  and  wishes  revolve.  What  do 
you  suppose  God  raised  you,  as  it  were,  from  worse  than 
death?  Surely  for  a  purpose,  and  his  purpose  will  be 
accomplished.  He  has  seen  fit  to  let  us  suffer  more  still 
to  purif}^  us  as  he  sees  we  need  it  for  that  purpose,  and 
if,  with  all  this  suffering  we  are  saved  and  our  loved 
ones,  it  is  well.  I  worry  less  and  less  about  my  children 
and  theirs.  I  think  and  trust  they  will  be  saved.  Christ 
suffered  to  atone  for  our  sins.  What  fearful  sufferings 
vou  and  I  have  passed  through!  What  was  it  for? 
Yours  were  unmerited.  I  was  not  entirely  guiltless  in 
your  case,  and  of  your  great  sacrifice.  Perhaps  it  was 
all  designed  ;  we  know  not.  God  and  you,  dear  child, 
forgive  me,  for  I  can  never  forgive  myself.  I  think  He 
has  forgiven   me,  I  have   prayed  over  this  so  much;  but 


THE    BEGINNING    OF   THE   END.  289 

no  one  can  take  away  the  sweet  peace  from  our  souls, 
or  our  hope  of  eternal  life.  'If  God  be  for  us,  who 
shall  be  against  us?'  This  helps  me  to  bear  up  under 
affliction. 

"I  am  glad  your  children  are  enjoying  religion.  Dear 
children,  how  I  long  to  see  them  !  Daniel  calls  upon 
God  to  plead  his  cause,  you  must  do  the  same." 

My  friends  at  Old  Fort  were  kind  and  sympathetic. 
I  stayed  a  week  at  Mrs.  Tremont's,  and  at  church 
all  my  old  friends  came  and  warmly  welcomed  me. 
While  at  Old  Fort  a  singular  incident  occurred  in 
my  receiving  several  letters  from  different  parties  in 
which  they  referred  me,  as  mother  did,  to  the  37th  Psalm, 
and  I  often  opened  the  Bible  at  the  words  "as  thy  faith 
is,  so  shall  it  be  unto  thee.  All  things  work  together  for 
good  to  those  who  love  God."  These  things  impressed 
and  encouraged  me,  so  after  locating  with  my  brother 
Bradley  in  Asheville,  I  took  up  the  thread  of  life  with 
more  hope.  Arrangements  were  made  to  take  me  into 
the  hospital  for  treatment.  Health  must  be  restored  first. 
While  there  I  succeeded  in  gaining  a  promise  of  my 
children's  admision  into  schools,  provided  I  could  get 
possession  of  them,  either  by  law  or  otherwise.  A  deep 
interest  was  soon  manifested  in  my  case  among  the  phy- 
sicians and  prominent  clergyman  and  church  people,  as 
well  as  the  Masonic  Fraternity.  The  leading  physicians  of 
the  city,  from  my  description,  pronounced  Mr.  Roderick 
an  insane  man,  or  at  times  insane — probably  an  epileptic 
maniac.  They  said  that  if  this  was  the  trouble,  it  was 
dangerous  for  any  woman  or  child  to  be  left  in  his  power, 
and  advised  me  to  take  some  immediate  steps  to  rescue 
my  children.  My  brother  wrote  letters  and  did  all  he 
could  to  assist  me.  I  had  come  to  Asheville  with  faith 
19 


290  ONE  woman's  life, 

that  God  would  restore  my  children  to  me,  and  now  it 
seemed  the  way  was  opening,  though  many  would  say 
they  were  unable  to  see  how  I  could  succeed,yet  I  believed 
all  would  come,  and  knew  God  was  all  powerful  and 
felt  his  daily  presence  was  with  me. 

The  biography  of  my  life,  which  I  had  begun  several 
years  before  had  been  left  in  my  brother's  care.  I  now 
took  it  up  and  began  writing  again.  Ever  since  I  had 
thought  of  writing  this  book,  I  had  felt  when  w^orking 
upon  it  I  was  doing  the  thing  God  would  have  me  do; 
when  I  gave  it  up  I  seemed  to  be  neglecting  a  duty, 
and  felt  less  hopeful.  When  by  prayer  and  suffering  I 
was  drawn  near  to  Plim,  I  was  always  impressed  that  this 
was  the  work  He  had  for  me  to  do.  Its  influence  for 
good  to  my  fellow-beings  I  hoped  and  prayed  might  be 
felt,  and  thus  I  might  be  of  some  service  to  them  and 
"make  the  world  all  the  better  for  my  having  lived  in  it" 
and  suffered.  I  did  not  want  to  go  to  heaven  empty- 
handed. 

"Must  I  go,  and  empty-handed, 
Must  I  meet  my  Savior  so? 
Not  one  soul  witJli  wliich  to  greet  Him, 
Must  I  empty-lianded  go?" 

Every  letter  from  the  children  rent  my  heart  afresh  as 
they  recounted  their  father's  cruelty — not  in  words,  of 
course,  as  their  father  read  every  line  they  wrote  but  by 
signs  and  letters  we  had  agreed  upon,  they  let  me  know 
their  condition,  until  their  letters  stopped  altogether,  for- 
bidden to  write  at  all  I  suppose.  In  one  letter  Marie 
enclosed  a  rosebud  and  deep  down  in  its  petals,  entirely 
hid  from  view,  I  found  a  little  slip  of  paper  in  which  she 
told  me  their  sad  state  and  sent  her  love  aad  prayers  for 


THE   BEGINNING    OF    THE   END.  291 

me.     Each  letter  was  such  a  shock  to  my  nervous  sys- 
tem that  I  became  sick  and  weak  and  unable  to  sit  up  for 
some  hours,  so  overcome  was  I   by   fear  and  sorrow  for 
those  dear  children.     Stella  often   said  while  I  was  with 
her  that  she  feared  for  their  lives  ;  that  the  life  of  one  of 
them  might  have  to  be  sacrificed  yet,  before  that  commu- 
nity would  be  convinced  of  the  truth,  and  we  both  felt  it 
would  be  Celeste,' my  dear  youngest  born,  because  her 
father  disliked  her  on  account   of   her   quick  perceptive 
mind,  bright  piquiant  ways,  and  her  devotion  to  myself. 
I  feared  this  was  only  too  true  and  received  each  letter  in 
breathless   horror,  dreading  to   open   it,  and  when    the 
letters  ceased  coming  at   all  the  suspense  was    almost 
more  than  I  could  bear.     I  had  to  put   my  whole  trust  in 
God,  and  trust  to   Him   in  perfect    faith,  or  my  reason 
would  have  been  dethroned.     In  this  way  strength  came, 
faith    lifted     me    above    the    situation,    and   I  believed 
God  would  protect  them.     To  God  would  I   turn  con- 
stantly, and  often  would  open  the  Bible  to  passages  which 
gave  me  such  perfect  assurance  that  it  calmed  and  con- 
forted  me.     My  brother  was  again  in  poor  health,  and  he 
could   not  give  all   the  assistance    necessary  for   me   to 
make  the  effort  to  procure  my  children.     A  suit  had  to  be 
brought,  if  Mr.  Roderick  could  not  be  put  into  the  asylum; 
if  both  failed  the  children  would  have  to  run  away,  and  I 
would    put  them    in   school,  and    Mr.  Roderick    would 
ha\^e  to  bring  suit  thea,  and  the  matter  be  settled  by   law. 
This  latter  was  the  most   difficult,  because  of  the  strict 
watch  kept  over  the  children  by  Mr.  Roderick  and  his  peo- 
ple.   It  would  be  almost  impossible  for  them  to  slip  away 
from  him  now  that  his  suspicions  were  aroused.  Money 
must  be  raised  to  aid  in  the  work,  so  I  resolved  to  try  to 

borrow  it.   I  went  to  the  superintendent  of  the  Vanderbilt 
estate,    and  his  wife  kindly  loaned  the  amount  sufficient 


292  ONE  woman's  life, 

for  present  expenses.  I  had  left  the  hospital  much 
sooner  than  I  should  have  done,  but  I  could  not  stay 
there  a  moment  longer  after  I  had  strength  to  go  away 
and  be  at  work  for  the  rescue  of  my  children.  Armed 
with  letters  from  prominent  clergymen  addressed  to  the 
judge,  also  from  physicians,  schools  and  friends  to  the 
physicians  of  Marion,  I  returned  to  Stella's  to  begin  the 
light  for  those  three  girls  and  boy  waiting  so  patiently 
for  me.  I  found  that  Stella  had  not  heard  from  them 
and  had  been  too  sick  to  visit  them  at  all.  I  could  not 
bear  the  suspense  and  urged  her  to  accompany  me.  It 
was  absolutely  necessary  that  I  should  see  them,  tell 
them  of  my  plans  and  give  them  money  to  bear  their  ex- 
penses in  the  event  they  had  to  run  away. 

I  knew  it  was  a  dangerous  visit,  for  Mr.  Rodeiick's 
suspicions  perhaps  had  been  sustained  by  reports  of 
what  I  was  doing,  as  there  is  always  some  one  ready  and 
eager  to  carry  news.  The  weather  was  intensely  hot — 
about  the  middle  of  July.  Stella  not  well,  and  myself  still 
sick  and  weak,  we  were  scarcely  equal  to  the  hazardous 
trip.  As  we  neared  the  neighborhood  we  met  a  woman 
who,  recognizing  us,  began  talking  about  "poor  Harriet," 
who,  after  all  her  trouble  in  raising  the  children,  had  had 
them  taken  away  from  her.  I  knew  from  her  words  what 
the  opinion  of  the  whole  neighborhood  was.  Late  in  the 
afternoon  we  drove  into  the  lane  leading  to  the  old  home. 
As  we  neared  the  house  we  saw  a  golden  head  peep 
out  from  among  the  shrubbery,  then  dart  into  the  house, 
and  all  three  came  running  out  to  meet  us.  "Oh!  Moth- 
er, we  are  so  glad  to  see  you,  but  father  has  threatened 
to  kill  you  and  you  must  not  stay  a  minute.  We  dare 
not  let  him  know  you  are  here.     He  says  he  will  surely 


THE   BEGINNING    OF   THE   END.  293 

kill  you!"  they  exclaimed  with  bated  breath  and  frigh- 
tened looks,  watching  to  see  if  he  was  coming.  ''He  has 
been  just  as  bad,  if  not  worse,  than  when  you  were  here. 
We  have  had  a  terrible  time  but  you  must  go  before  he 
sees  you."  But  I  felt  no  fear,  and  stepping  from  the 
buggy  I  told  the  pale,  frightened  children  that  I 
must  come  or  nothing  would  ever  be  accomplished. 
"Come  in,  I  want  to  tell  you  my  plans,"  and  I  soon  told 
them  of  all  that  happened  and  what  I  wished  to  do.  Bade 
them  to  wait  one  month  longer,  until  the  fall  court; 
then  if  they  heard  nothing  from  me,  they  were  to  take 
their  first  opportunity  and  run  away.  I  had  previously 
enlisted  the  interest  and  sympathy  of  the  conductors  on 
the  train  who  promised  to  take  care  of  and  deliver  them 
safely  to  their  journey's  end. 

I  gave  them  their  money  and  letters,  with  careful  in- 
structions to  hide  their  money,  and  prepared  them  in  every 
way  for  the  escape.  Even  giving  them  an  anesthetic  to 
reserve  for  their  father  if  he  refused  to  sleep  and  watched 
them  too  closely,  this  to  be  used  only  as  a  last  resort,  if 
they  could  not  "slip  off"  in  any  other  way.  A  mild  dose 
would  put  him  to  sleep  long  enough  for  them  to  make 
good  their  escape,  and  a  physician  had  advised  and  given 
the  exact  amount,  so  I  knew  I  was  doing  no  wrong. 

Fortunately  I  had  found  the  children  alone,  for  we  had 
not  a  moment  afterward.  They  told  me  of  all  that  had 
happened  since  I  left.  How  their  father  had  beaten  Marie 
until  her  face  was  black  with  bruises  for  a  week,  because 
she  loas  sick  and  slapped  Celeste  so  violently  that  the  marks 
of  his  nngers  appeared   in  bruises  on  her  face  next  day. 

He  would  pray  and  quarrel  almost  in  the  same  breath, 
and  would  often  hide  the  food  not  allowing  them  enough 


294  ONE  woman's  life. 

to  eat.  They  had  worked  in  the  rain,  and  had  been 
forced  to  work  when  so  sick  and  tired  they  could  scarce- 
ly stand.  Indeed,  Marie  said  she  felt  she  must  die  at 
times  she  was  so  faint  and  ill  (a  modern  Pharaoh  in  all  his 
hard-heartedness  and  cruelty).  They  also  said  that  Er- 
nest had  kept  the  promise  he  made  me  and  did  all  in  his 
power  to  protect  and  care  for  them.  That  he  was  still 
sad  and  talked  but  little. 

In  the  time  of  our  conversation  some  of  them  would 
continually  keep  watch,  fearing  their  father's  approach. 
Scarcely  had  the  above  been  told  before  he  came.  Stella 
arose  to  meet  him  with  all  the  pleasantness  she  could  sum- 
mons. I  too  spoke  cordially  and  began  teUing  him  of 
some  incidents  of  the  past  summer,  then  inquiring  about 
things  on  the  farm,  about  his  bees,  stock,  etc.  Then  we 
jested  wittily  on  different  topics  until  the  sullen  expres- 
sion wore  into  a  smile,  though  occasionally  I  noticed  a 
sinister,  evil  look  flash  from  his  eyes.  Soon  we  were  out 
in  the  yard  with  him  looking  at  the  new  house  and  tak- 
ing a  general  interest  in  everything;  this  we  must  do  to 
keep  him  in  a  good  humor.  Ernest  came  in  while  we 
were  at  supper,  but  I  had  no  opportunity  of  seeing  him 
alone.  All  went  pleasantly  that  evening  with  the  excep- 
tion of  that  sardonic  look,  which  would  come  into  Mr.  Rod- 
erick's face,  then  he  would  hastily  leave  the  room;  several 
times  he  did  this,  and  a  dreadful  foreboding  filled  my 
mind.  I  could  not  sleep,  and  arose  unrefreshed  next 
morning.  I  wanted  to  speak  to  Ernest  alone  and  give 
him  his  money,  but  Mr.  Roderick's  sharp  eyes  watched 
my  every  movement.  The  children  were  at  work  and  I 
was  standing  before  the  mirror  combing  my  hair  when 
Mr.  Roderick  came  in;  walking  to  my  side,  he   gave  my 


THE   BEGINNING    OF   THE    END.  295 

dress  a  violent  jerk  and  made  some  sarcastic  remarks.  I 
foresaw  the  storm  in  his  face  and  turning,  smilingly  said, 
'Why,  I  thought  this  pretty  black  and  white  wrapper 
would  please  you."  Scarcely  were  the  words  spoken  be- 
fore he  fastened  both  hands  into  my  hair  and  jerked  and 
pulled  it  furiously,  screaming,  cursing,  calling  names, 
a  perfect  torrent  of  abuse.  Ernest  heard  him  and  ran 
to  my  assistance.  He  finally  loosened  his  father's  hands 
and  I  slipped  out  into  the  yard.  Jerking  away  from  Er- 
nest he  ran  and  caught  .me  (though  I  did  not  run)  and 
snatched  a  handful  of  hair  out  of  my  head,  screaming 
and  dancing,  saying  I  will  kill  you!  "I  mean  it!  You 
shall  die !"  .  Again  Ernest  interfered,  and  I  walked 
away  into  the  house.  He  rushed  after  me  as  I  was  in 
the  act  of  taking  up  my  Bible  lying  upon  the  table. 
"How  dare  you  touch  that  book,  you  vile  creature!  Put 
it  down!  It  is  too  sacred  a  thing  for  your  vile  hands 
to  pollute,"  with  a  slap  that  sent  me  across  the  room 
against  the  door.  I  opened  it  and  went  off  to  the  kitch- 
en; he  followed  and  rushed  upon  me  again,  beating  me 
back  into  the  corner  and  with  his  fist  pounded  my  head 
and  body,  screaming  through  his  clenched  teeth  that  he 
would  kill  me,  "stamp  the  life  out  of  you."  His  mur- 
derous white  face  glowered  down  upon  me  in  threats  and 
curses  too  horrible  to  mention.  His  looks  verified  his 
words;  murder  was  written  in  every  line  of  his  face  as  he 
continually  cried,  "I'll  kill  you  !  I  mean  it!  You  shall 
not  escape  me  this  time  !"  Ernest  constantly  tried  to  hold 
his  father  but  was  knocked  to  the  back  side  of  the  room, 
saying,  ''You  dare  interfere,  you  young  scoundrel !  I'll 
cut  your  throat  from  ear  to  ear  if  you  do  not  let  me 
alone." 


296  ONE  woman's  life. 

As  the  blows  fell  thick  and  fast  with  terrific  force,  I 
felt  that  I  had  but  a  short  time  in  which  to  live.  My  jaws 
were  nearly  knocked  from  their  sockets  and  my  temples 
bruised  and  head  bleeding,  where  my  hair  had  been  torn 
out.  Was  I  to  die  such  a  death  at  last  at  the  hands  of 
this  madman!  After  all  my  efforts  for  my  children  was 
it  to  end  here?  "Ernest!  Ernest!  Will  you  let  your 
father  kill  me?"  I  saw  Marie  weeping  in  a  corner,  Celeste 
had  run  for  a  neighbor.  Bertha  was  away  from  home, 
as  was  Stella.  Ernest  again  sprang  forward  at  my  words, 
and  succeeded  in  pushing  him  away  for  a  moment.  Then 
Stella  returning,  cried  "Father  !  father !  Stop  this,  or 
I  shall  die.  Stop  I  tell  you."  She  wept  aloud  and  con- 
tinued her  entreaties  until  she  and  Ernest  succeeded  in 
getting  him  away.  I  could  not  weep  nor  cry  out.  The 
agony  of  the  awful  situation  dazed  and  overwhelmed 
me.  At  this  instant  Celeste  came  in  followed  by  Mr. 
Bob  Crowley,  a  friend  *of  Mr.  Roderick's.  Mr.  Rode- 
rick turned  to  Mr.  Crowley  instantly  dropping  into  his 
bland,  cordial  manner,  then  began  telling  him  of  me, 
charging  me  with  all  kind  of  misdemeanors.  Mr.  Crow- 
ey  tried  to  quiet  the  weeping  children  by  saying  you  need 
not  fear,  children,  your  father  is  too  good  a  man  to  harm 
any  of  you,  and  your  mother  is  in  no  danger,  and  he 
turned  to  leave  the  room.  Stella  ran  out  after  him  and 
entreated  him  not  to  go,  "do  not  leave  us  until  mother 
can  be  got  away  she  cried.  He  will  kill  her  if  you  do." 
I  added  my  entreaties  to  hers  but  to  no  purpose.  He  only 
replied  that  Mr.  Roderick  was  too  good  a  man  for  that, 
there  was  not  the  least  bit  of  danger. 

"You  do  not  care  if  he  does"  I  said  ;  "you  would  like 
him  to  do  it,  and  you  have  all  been  prejudiced  against 
me  and  do  not  know  what  you  are  talking  about.  Can 


o 


B 


o 

C! 
w 

CD     W 
•       3 

B 

(H 
31 


ffl> 


3       -T^^^S:: 


05 


THE   BEGINNING    OF   THE   END.  299 

you  not  see  ?  See  that  I  will  be  murdered  by  a  cunning 
madman  !"  I  said.  But  our  pleadings  were  of  no  avail; 
he  left  us,  and  Stella  returned  to  her  father,  who  was  still 
raving  in  the  room,  crying,  "Father  !  father !  you  must  not 
do  this  !  I  cannot  bear  it;  I  beg  you  to  get  my  horse  and 
buggy  and  let  us  go !  I  shall  die  !  I  shall  die  !  I  im- 
plore you,  let  us  go!"  She  sobbed  violently,  and  all  the 
children  cried  silently  in  fear.  In  the  meantime  I  made 
hasty  preparations  to  leave.  Mr.  Roderick  following  me, 
sneering,  hissing,  and  would  thrust  his  face  right  up  into 
mine  with  a  most  awful  maniacal  expression;  trying  to 
make  me  acknowledge  I  was  in  the  wrong  and  must  ask 
his  forgiveness,  saying,  "Madam!  you  shall  not  stay  in 
this  house  another  minute  unless  you  apologize  and 
promise  me  to  be  obedient  hereafter  and  submit  to  me 
more  than  you  have  ever  done  before  !"  I  had  nothing  to 
say,  no  apologies  nor  promises  to  make,  and  kept  on  with 
my  preparations,  trying  to  escape  him  by  going  out  into 
the  yard  and  away  from  him,  but  he  followed.  Ernest 
soon  had  the  horse  and  buggy  read}^,  and  Stella  and  I 
proceeded  to  get  in.  Mr.  Roderick  came  up  threatening 
to  murder  me  and  looking  right  up  into  my  face.  "I  will 
drag  you  right  out  of  here  and  kill  you!"  he  said,  clench- 
ing his  fists  and  grinding  his  teeth.  Stella's- cries  and  con- 
stant pleading  kept  him  down  somewhat  until  we  were 
safely  in,  and  started  away.  The  three  weeping  girls  were 
sent  to  gather  beans  in  the  field  although  it  was  Sunday 
morning,  and  Mr.  Roderick  afterwards  went  on  to  Sun- 
day-school where  he  was  superintendent .  So  I  had  to 
leave  without  saying  good-bye  to  them.  Mr.  Roderick 
continued  to  follow  us  for  some  time,  walking  beside  the 
buggy,  raving  and  threatening,  and  I  momentarily  expect- 


300  ONE  woman's  life. 

ed  to  be  dragged  from  the  buggy  and  stamped  to  death. 
Ernest  followed  unseen  by  him,  slipping  from  tree  to 
tree,  but  watching  his  father,  so  that  if  he  did  attempt  to 
do  us  harm  he  would  be  near  to  protect  us. 

His  father  had  driven  him  back  when  we  first  started, 
but  he  followed  on  the  sly  and  kept  a  watch  on  him. 

Grief  overcame  me  as  I  thought  of  the  unhappy  result  of 
this  trip  and  leaving  the  children  in  still  greater  danger? 
but  I  knew  I  must  arouse  myself  to  the  work  of  getting 
possession  of  them. 

Scarcely  a  word  passed  between  Stella  and  myself 
through  that  long  tedious  drive.  In  Marion  I  stopped  at 
a  drug  store  to  get  some  medicine  and  met  Dr.  Arm- 
strong, who  inquired  into  the  cause  of  my  bruised  up  ap- 
pearance. I  told  him  all  about  it,  then  showed  him  the 
letters  I  had  from  Asheville.  He  at  once  said  Mr.  Rod- 
erick must  be  insane  and  said  he  would  make  an  effort  to 
have  him  put  in  the  asylum  and  would  himself  see  tht 
other  physicians  of  the  town  and  the  county  physicians. 
1  his  he  did,  but  the  county  doctor  declined  to  do  any- 
thing. Then  I  went  to  him  myself,  imploring  justice  at  his 
hands,  but  he  refused  with  harsh,  unkind  words.  I  con- 
sulted several  other  physicians  in  the  community,  and  all 
thought  alike  that  Mr.  Roderick  was  insane,  but  with- 
out the  approval  of  the  county  physician,  who  was  Mr. 
Roderick's  friend,  nothing  could  be  done.  So  this  plan 
had  to  be  relinquished;  no  other  course  could  I  pursue  but 
resort  to  law.  With  the  assistance  of  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Seymore,  who  so  kindly  aided  me  in  every  way  they 
could,  I  notified  my  parents  and  brothers  to  attend, 
and  then  came  the  long  waiting  as  is  usual  upon  the 
courts.       Suspense   so   wearing  I  could  scarely  bear  it. 


THE   BEGINNING    OF    THE   END.  301 

What  might  not  happen  to  the  children  while  the  slow- 
arm  of  the  law  meted  out  its  decisions  to  its  subjects^ 
Waiting  was  all  for  me  to  do  now,  and  the  following 
lines  forming  in  my  mind  spoke  my  heart  : 

WAITING. 

Waiting,  dreaming,  waiting,  by  some  flowing  mystic  rill. 
Waiting,  'hoping,  waiting,  strong  desires  my  spirit  fill, 
Waiting,  restless  waiting,  O'h'!  coiuld  I  join  the  busy  throng. 
Waiting,  patient  waiting,  for  right  to  triumph  over  wrong. 

Waiting,  weary  waiting,  as  the  hours  creep  slowly  by, 
Waiting,  sadly  waiting,  unnoticed  by  those  passing  nigh. 
Waiting,  daily  waiting,  with  fire  alive  in  heart  and  brain, 
Waiting,  yearly  waiting,  tho'  seeming  but  to  wait  for  pain. 

Waiting,  striving,  waiting,  wisdom's  goal  I  fain  would  win. 
Waiting,  weeping,  waiting,  ever  bearing  Adam's  sin. 
Waiting,  vainly  waiting,  the  race  is  for  the  swift  and  strong. 
Waiting,  sighing,  waiting,  pouring  forth  my  grief  in  song. 

Waiting,  fearing,  waiting,  wlMle  the  shadows  gather  deep. 
Waiting,  doubting,  waiting,  down  the  rocky  cliffs  they  creep. 
Waiting,  longing,  waiting,  for  man's  promises  not  filled. 
Waiting,  'trusting,  waiting,  Jesius  speaks  and  all  is  still. 

Stella  was  very  ill,  the  result  of  the  shock  she  had  re- 
ceived at  her  father's,  and  was  unable  to  be  present  at 
court,  so  her  affidavit  had  to  be  taken  by  a  magistrate 
from  Marion.  A-mon^  a  few  staunch  faithful  friends  I 
found  refuge  during  court  weeks,  most  of  them  were 
old  citizens  of  the  town,  who  had  known  me  since  my 
girlhood,  and  a  deep  sympathy  was  manifested  by  many 
dear  women.  Unfortunately  for  me  a  very  exciting 
criminal  case  was  on  trial,  which  occupied  the  entire  time 
up  to  the  very  last  day.  It  rain  steadily,  the  streams  ris- 
ing and  flooding  the  country,  and  the  streets  were  almost 


302  ONE  woman's  life. 

impassable.  From  a  window  overlooking  the  court- 
yard I  saw  Mr.  Roderick  affectionately  patting  the  men  on 
their  shoulders  and  walking  with  them,  or  with  arm 
around  them  walking  about  the  yard  in  earnest  conver- 
sation. Ernest  he  had  brought  with  him,  but  kept  such  a 
strict  surveillance  over  him  that  he  only  had  an  opportu- 
nity to  slip  in  and  see  me  once  or  twice  to  assure  me  that 
he  would  speak  the  truth  fully  when  called  upon  in  court, 
and  no  fear  of  his  father,  or,  indeed,  of  any  one,  could 
make  him  swear  a  falsehood.  Once  I  saw  them  take  him 
into  a  lawyer's  private  office,  and  I  knew  he  was  then 
going  through  the  trying  ordeal  of  cross  question.  From 
the  faces  of  the  men  I  read  their  displeasure  at  Ernest's 
answers.  The  criminal  case  and  the  severe  rains  had 
prevented  the  magistrate  going  for  Stella's  affidavit.  Also 
my  father  and  brothers  had  been  water-bound  so  they 
could  not  come,  though  Harry  met  me  at  the  beginning 
of  court  but  had  to  return  for  father's  affidavit  and  for, 
others,  and  now  could  not  reach  the  town  because  of  the 
heavy  rains.  Mrs.  Seymore  had  returned  home  with 
the  intention  to  come  back  for  the  trial,  but  the  flood 
and  sickness  detained  her.  Mrs.  Tremont's  baby  died, 
so  of  course  she  could  not  attend.  Mother's  affidavit 
had  not  arrived,  and  the  magistrate's  and  lawyer's  en- 
tire attention  was  absorbed  by  the  criminal  case. 
And  as  I  looked  out  of  my  window,  with  all  these 
barriers  to  our  success  absorbing  my  mind,  and  looking 
would  behold  Mr.  Roderick  in  pleasant  conversation  with 
the  men  in  the  court-yard,  apparently  on  good  terms  with 
all,  my  heart  would  faint  within  me.  Oh,  the  anguish  of 
my  soul  as  this  suspense  wore  on  day  after  day!  I  could 
not  eat  nor  sleep,   would   walk   the  floor  and  wring  my 


THE    BEGINNING    OF   THE    END.  303 

I 

hands  in  agony  at  the  thought  of  failure  and  of  the 
hourly  peril  my  children  were  in.  Would  they  escape  ? 
Oh,  my  heavenly  Father,  pity  us!  As  things  now  stood, 
so  far  as  human  eye  could  see,  no  ray  of  hope  was  in 
view.  Then  a  promise  from  the  Bible  would  flit  through 
my  mind  just  as  if  spoken  words,  so  vividly  they  im- 
pressed me  that  God  was  with  me,  and  they  gave  me 
faith  to  persist  and  be  brave.  '^  Put  your  trust  in  God 
and  He  will  bring  it  to  pass"  rang  through  my  head  con 
tinuously,  and  "  Cast  all  your  care  upon  Him,  for  He 
careth  for  you."  These  and  many  more  similar  ones 
kept  alive  the  faith  that  had  for  years  enabled  me  to  rise 
above  the  waves  of  woe  that  so  often  threatened  to  over- 
whelm me. 

The  day  before  the  trial  the  sun  came  out  bright,  and 
clear,  and  nature  smiled  joyfully  through  the  tears  of 
sparkling  raindrops  and  many  rushing  streams. 

About  TO  o'clock  that  morning  brother  Harry's  arrival 
first  gladdened  my  heart  and  aroused  slumbering  hope,  as 
beside  his  strong  presence  he  brought  money  and  father's 
affidavit.  A  magistrate  had  gone  for  Stella's  affidavit 
and  the  morning's  mail  brought  one  from  my  mother, 
with  a  certificate  from  her  physician  as  to  her  improved 
health,  both  physically  and  mentally,  and  her  perfect 
ability  to  swear  truthfully  to  such  a  paper.  The  noon 
mail  brought  encouraging  letters  and  affidavits  from 
OIH  Fort  friends.  Brother  Bradley  came  with  the  affida- 
vits and  money  for  lawyer's  fee.  My  Marion  friends 
seemed  now  thoroughly  aroused  to  a  reahzation  that  now 
was  their  time  to  come  to  my  aid  if  ever,  and  sent  me 
strong  affidavits  and  said  and  did  all  in  their  power.  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Seymore   and  Mr.   Lyman  came  in  bringing 


304  ONE  woman's  life. 

Stella's  and  their  own  affidavits.  At  last  all  was  in  readi- 
ness for  the  final  struggle.  Onl}'  the  children's  presence 
was  wanting,  and  they  had  been  summoned.  Would 
they  come  ?  was  the  question  uppermost  in  the  hearts  of 
all  us  watching  ones.  Would  they  brave  their  father's 
anger  by  disobeying  him  ? 

Over  and  over  I  cried  in  my  heart,  would  they  come? 
''Wait  on  the  Lord."  "Cast  all  your  care  upon  Him, 
for  He  careth  for  you,"  echoed  in  reply,  and  hope  and 
trust  would  still  the  tearless,  terrible  anguish  and  suspense. 
Next  morning  I  was  up  before  light,  waiting  and  watching 
for  the  children.  I  felt  they  doubtless  would  have  to  run 
away,  as  their  father  would  not  let  them  come  to  swear 
against  himself.  I  walked  out  upon  the  streets  I  thought 
they  would  likely  come.  Up  and  down,  back  and  forth, 
peering  into  every  corner,  but  no  children.  Entering  my 
door  in  sickening  despair,  with  hope  dying  in  my  heart, 
I  looked  back  and  what  did  I  see — the  sight  I  so  longed 
for — m}'  darlings  were  coming,  Ernest  piloting  the  way; 
each  with  a  bundle  came  hurrying  in.  They  had 
risen  long  before  day,  slipped  away  from  their  aunts 
and  walked  nine  miles,  walking  on  the  railroad  track. 
Their  father  had  been  watching  also,  but  at  the  time  of 
their  entrance  his  attention  was  engaged  in  conversation 
with  a  party  near  him,  and  though  he  was  in  full  sight  of 
the  door  he  did  not  see  them,  neither  did  he  know  I  was 
in  that  house.  Taking  the  children  we  ran  through  the 
wet  corn,  climbed  a  barbed  wire  fence  (though  I  received 
a  fall  in  my  effort)  and  ran  through  a  lane  to  a  friend's 
house,  who  had  promised  to  hide  the  children  until 
the  decision  of  the  court  was  given.  The  children  and 
myself  had  resolved  that   whatever  the  court's  decision 


What  did  I  see?    The  sight  I  so  longed  for  -,  my  darlings  were  com- 
ing, each  with  a  bundle,  Ernest  piloting  the  way. 


20 


THE   BEGINNING    OF    THE   END.  307 

we  would  let  nothing  again  separate  us,  but  would  make 
good  our  escape  that  night  away  and  out  of  the  country. 
They  said  "  no  law,  no  person,  should  tear  them  from 
me."     They  would  die  first,  pale  weeping  children! 

The  case  was  called  before  the  judge,  and  Mr.  Rod- 
erick and  his  lawyers  learning  now  I  had  possession  of 
the  children,  and  hearing  all  the  good  evidence  my 
lawyers  presented,  became  frightened,  and  after  much 
consultation  among  themselves,  to  our  great  joy  and  relief 
they  agreed  to  give  up  the  three  girls,  while  to  our  sor- 
row Ernest  was  to  return  to  his  father;  but  not  with- 
out a  secret  understanding  between  he  and  I  that  as  soon 
as  opportunity  offered  he  was  to  run  away  and  come  to 
me.  Although  it  cost  me  great  grief  to  give  him  up 
even  for  a  short  time,  I  joined  in  this  agreement,  and 
Ernest  came,  without  his  father's  knowledge,  and  told 
me  good-bye.  Mr.  Roderick  coming  in  to  sign  the  paper 
turned  to  the  three  girls  and  made  a  most  frantic,  wild 
speech  of  all  kinds  of  advice  to  them;  losing  his  self- 
possession,  he  became  excitedly  insane  in  his  manner  and 
speech.  When  he  left  the  room  one  of  the  lawyers 
came  forward  and  said  : 

'<  Mrs.  Roderick,  I  see  you  are  right.  I  had  believed 
you  mistaken,  but  I  understand  it  all  now;  Ae  is  insane 
No  sane  man  could  act  and  talk  as  he  did." 

All  was  arranged,  and  bidding  my  kind,  hospitable. 
Marion  friends  good-bye,  we  accompanied  Mr.  Lyman  to 
his  and  Mrs.  Seymore's  homes.  With  hearts  full  of  grat- 
itude to  God  we  joyfully  went  with  our  friends,  expect- 
ing soon  to  send  my  daughters  to  school.  Stella  was 
improving,  and  now  mother  was  so  much  better  and  her 


308  ONE  woman's  life, 

mind  restored  that  I  was  humbly  grateful  for   all  God's 
goodness  to  me. 

At  last  the  beginning  of  the  result  of  all  my  hard 
work  and  prayers,  with  a  ray  of  hope  that  would  glitter 
and  be  a  guiding  star  to  the  end.  Hope  was  now  firmly 
planted  in  our  hearts  and  training  our  hands,  and  it  was 
not  with  an  unforgiving  spirit  that  1  left  the  Rodericks. 
For  all  their  ill  treatment  and  abuse  I  forgave  them,  and 
felt  a  deep  pity  and  sorrow  for  Mr.  Roderick.  1  went 
my  way  bearing  no  malice  in  my  heart,  leaving  them  in 
the  hands  of  their  God.  At  last  four  saved  and  Ernest 
would  soon  come. 

REST  HAS  COME. 

FatJher,  before  Ttee   I  am  kneeling   in  gratitude  and  love, 
Sad,  weary  years  I  sougiM,  appealing  for  succor  from  above. 
My  cries  seemed  wild  as  unavailing  before  thy  chast'ning  rod. 
My  spirit  in  the  strife  oft  failing   to  trust  Thee,  Oh  my  God. 

When  flotids  of  sorrow  o'er  me  sweeping  thy  hand  I  could  not  see. 
Then  thou,  when  heart  and  strength  were  yielding,  bade  me  to 

cling  to  Thee, 
Strength  from  thy  promise  gave  endurance   to  stem,  to  cross  the 

flood; 
I  thank  tJiee,  rest  in  Mest  assurance  of  Jesus'  cleansing  blood. 


CHAPTER   XV. 


REWARD  OF  FAITH. 


'Leave  behind  earth's  empty   pleasure 

Fleeting  hope  and  changeful  love, 
Leave  its  soon  corroding  treasures, 
Ttiere  are  better  things  above." 

FTER  a  short  stay  with  Stella  and  Mrs. 
Seymore  I  started  the  children  to  schools  in 
Asheville,  Marie  to  the  "Normal  and  Col- 
legiate Institute"  in  charge  of  Dr.  Lawrence, 
Bertha  and  Celeste  to  "Pease  Institute"  to  go 
from  thence  to  the  Normal  as  soon  as  sufficiently  advanc- 
ed. It  was  a  happy  day  for  me  the  day  I  saw  them  put 
upon  the  train  bound  for  Asheville.  Now  I  turned  my 
thoughts  to  Ernest.  His  school  opened  a  month  later, 
and  as  he  was  not  permitted  to  visit  or  communicate  with 
me,  it  was  quite  a  difficult  matter  to  make  the  necessary 
plans  for  his  escape.  I  wrote  an  open  note.  I  thought 
he  would  understand,  and  sent  it  by  a  wagoner.  It  was 
so  worded  that  no  one  but  Ernest  himself  could  under- 
stand my  true  meaning.  The  little  ruse  succeeded  and 
he  sent  a  portion  of  his  clothes  by  a  wagoner  under  the 
supposition  that  they  were  to  be  sold  by  me.  I  expect- 
ed a  note  to  be  hidden  in  the  clothing  stating  what  day  to 
look  for  him,  but   was  disappointed.  After  some  delay 


310  ONE  woman's  life. 

I  decided  to  write  a  private  letter  and  trust  it  to  a  Mr. 
Lanier,  whom  I  thought  to  be  an  honest,  trustworthy 
man.  Soon  after  the  letter  had  gone,  I  again  searched 
the  clothes  Ernest  had  sent,  and  discovered  the  expected 
note  securely  hidden  away  in  an  inside  lining.  It  ran 
thus: 

"Dear  Mother. — I  will  come,  and  go  to  that  school, 
but  I  am  in  great  need  of  clothing.  You  may  expect  me 
on  the  day  school  opens.  Will  take  the  train  that  da}', 
so  father  cannot  get  me  back.  I  am  waiting  this  in  the 
dark.  Your  devoted  son,  Ernest." 

This  note  gave  me  such  relief  and  joy  that  I  trembled 
with  pleasure  and  anticipation  at  the  thought  that  soon  I 
would  have  all  the  children  in  school  and  doing  well. 

A  few  days  of  suspense  and  the  morning  of  Ernest's 
arrival  came.  I  had  not  slept  for  anxiety  for  him  and  arose 
before  light  and  walked  out  on  the  road,  hoping,  fearing, 
lest  he  could  not  come.  The  minutes  and  hours  dragged 
— nine, — ten, — eleven.  Oh,  would  he  not  come  ?  What 
had  happened  ?  Oh  Ernest  !  Ernest !  Where  are  you 
now,  my  darling  boy?  One  hour  more  and  your  train  for 
the  school  will  have  come  and  gone  !  What  shall  I  do  if 
you  do  not  come  ?  On !  On!  the  minutes  flew  now.  How 
I  would  hold  you,  as  Joshua  bade  the  sun  stand  still,  you 
precious  time,  that  my  son  could  arrive  before  that  train ! 
I  wrung  my  hands  in  anguish  as  the  shrill  whistle  of  the 
"express  sounded  in  the  distance  and  no  Ernest  could  be 
seen  anywhere.  I  trembled  so,  my  weak  aftd  tottering 
limbs  would  not  bear  my  weight  and  went  in  and  sank 
on  the  bed  as  I  realized  it  was  now  too  late;  Ernest  would 
not  come.  Some  dreadful  thing  had  happened  to  him  ! 
My  poor,  poor  boy  !     What  can  I  do  to  help  you  !     Oh, 


REWARD    OF    FAITH.  311 

what  am  I  to  do?  What  am  I  to  do  ?  Truly  my  heart 
could  respond  in  the  "Oh  Absalom  !  my  son,  my  son  !" 
of  King  David  of  old.  My  brain  seemed  on  fire  !  For 
days  and  weeks  I  heard  nothing  from  Ernest,  and  walk- 
ed the  roads,  for  I  could  not  bear  to  be  caged  in  the  house. 
The  nights  were  spent  in  sleepless  tossing  until  exhaust- 
ed nature  would  sleep  only  to  dream  some  terrible  dream 
of  him.  Heavy  rains  set  in  and  the  streams  rose,  making 
it  more  difficult  for  me  to  get  word  from  him  now.  Only 
a  mother's  heart  could  realize  the  anguish  of  those  hours. 
I  longed  to  fiy  to  him,  but  knew  this  would  only  make 
matters  worse.  My  suspense  became  unbearable  until 
one  morning,  to  divert  my  mind,  I  went  to  a  clergyman's 
ivife,  Mrs.  Paxton,  a  dear  friend  whose  husband  had  per- 
formed our  marriage  service,  and  began  reading  ihe 
Bible  again,  as  had  been  my  custom.  I  asked  her  to  pray 
with  me;  that  I  could  not  bear  this  waiting  and  must 
have  help  from  on  high.  We  prayed  long  and  earnestly  and 
again  opening  the  Bible  I  read  from  the  91st  Psalm  "for 
he  shall  give  his  angels  charge  over  thee,  to  keep  thee 
in  all  thy  ways.  They  shall  bear  thee  up  in  their  hands, 
lest  thou  dash  thy  foot  against  a  stone."  This  seemed  a 
direct  answer  to  our  prayers,  and  that  whatever  Ernest's 
dangerous  position  God  would  take  care  of  him.  Often 
in  the  night  I  would  arouse  from  some  horrible  dream 
and  worry  over  Ernest's  condition,  when  these  words 
would  again  come  almost  as  if  spoken  "for  he  shall  give 
his  angels  charge  over  thee"  etc.  They  whispered  com- 
fort and  sweet  peace,  and  I  would  drop  off  in  peaceful 
sleep  and  thus  learned  to  trust  as  a  little  child  all  to  my 
Saviour.  A  few  days  later  a  short  note  came  from  Er- 
nest saying  he  could  not  come,  and  that  he  was  going  to 


312  ONE  woman's  life. 

Rutherford  county  to  school.  This  was  all.  Disappoint- 
ed I  was  indeed,  yet  I  hoped  it  must  be  for  the  best,  and 
felt  thankful  to  know  he  was  safe  and  would  be  in  some 
good  school  even  though  not  the  one  I  had  provided  for 
him. 

It  was  some  months  later  I  discovered  that  the  letter  I 
had  sent  by  Mr.  Lanier  had  never  reached  Ernest  but 
was  delivered  into  the  hands  of  Mr.  Roderick.  The  scene 
that  ensued  was  never  recounted  to  me.  Ernest  would 
only  say  '^I  was  into  it  down  there."  What  with  threats, 
expostulations  and  promises  he  was  induced  to  promise  to 
go  to  the  Rutherford  county  school  instead  of  coming  to 
this  one.  I  had  bought  him  a  new  trunk  and  made  him 
some  clothes  and  remade  his  old  ones.  These  I  could 
not  get  to  him  and  feared  he  would  suffer,  as  his  father 
never  provided  him  an3^thing,  but  for  this  I  could  have 
been  somewhat  satisfied.  I  now  turned  my  mind  to  mis- 
sion work.  I  had  returned  to  my  father's  for  a  visit  while 
I  wrote  letters  and  made  arrangements  for  the  work  I 
loved  so  much  to  do.  A  friend  wrote  me  of  a  position  in 
a  ''Home"  in  Georgia  and  wished  me  to  take  charge  of  it. 
The  way  seemed  all  opened  when  to  my  horror  my  eye- 
sight failed  and  I  again  lay  almost  helplessly  blind. 
The  severe,  mental  and  physical  strains  1  had  suffered 
were  too  much  for  my  eyes;  again  I  must  pay  the  penal- 
ty in  suffering  blindness.  I  was  unable  to  wait  upon 
myself,  helpless  for  all  that  winter,  and  was  tortured  with 
the  thought  of  how  I  could  possibly  care  for  myself  and 
children  now  beside  all  the  agony  of  blindness  and  constant 
excruciating  pain.  Yet  the  messages  would  come.  "Trust 
in  the  Lord  and  do  good,  and  verily  thou  shalt  be  fed." 
"Wait  upon  the  Lord  and  he  shall  bring  it  to  pass."   ''All 


KEWARD  OF  FAITH.  313 

things  come  to  those  who  wait."  These  and  other  passages 
were  sent,  while  the  following  beautiful  verse  rang  over  and 
over  in  my  mind,  as  if  spoken: 

"My  Father  is  rich  in  houses  and  land, 
He  holdeth  the  wealth  of  the  world  In  His  hand. 
Of  silver  and  diamonds,  of  rubies  and  ♦gold. 
His  coffers  are  full,  He  has  riches  untold. 
I'm  the  child  of  a  king,  the  child  of  a  king, 
With  Jesus  my  Savior,  I'm  the  child  of  a  king." 

All  prospects  for  my  earning  anything  were  now  taken 
away.  But  thoughts  of  the  little  poems  which  I  had 
composed  when  blind  before  kept  coming  to  me  as 
the  one  thing  I  could  do.  My  father  whose  mind  was 
well  stored  with  knowledge  would  often  divert  me 
with  readings,  recitations,  and  anecdotes  of  his  early  life, 
and  would  calm  and  soothe  with  hymns  and  psalms  of 
praise.  Often  in  the  still,  lonely  watches  of  the  night  I 
would  hear  his  voice  repeating  in  low  accents  some  beau- 
tiful verse  or  passage  of  scripture.  The  moon  shone  in 
softly  upon  us  and  gleaming  stars  spoke  in  louder  tones 
than  his  of  a  God  who  sees  and  cares.  I  had  relinquish- 
ed the  work  of  writing  the  book  of  my  life.  Now  during 
that  long  winter  it  haunted  me  constantly.  "But,"  said  I, 
<'how  can  I  write  a  book;  I  am  now  blind  and  ill;  how  can 
I  do  it?"  "I  will  provide  a  way,"  a  voice  seemed  to 
answer !  "I  will  give  you  strength."  "But  I  have  been 
criticized  for  thinking  of  writing  my  life,  again  I  objected ." 
"What!  write  your  own  Hfe  !  I  thought  that  was  some- 
thing people  tried  to  hide,  to  protect  from  the  public 
eye."  "Too  sacred  for  a  stranger's  gaze  !  This  is  what 
people  say  to  me."  "True,"  answered  the  voice,  "yet  if 
your  life  shows  out  of  what  depth  the  power  of  faith  can 
bring  one, — the  efficacy  of  prayer,  the  influence  of  Chris- 


314  ONE  woman's  life. 

tian  example,  the  Christian's  forbearance;  if  in  any  way, 
be  it  ever  so  small,  you  can  benefit  your  fellow-man  and 
let  the  light  of  the  gospel  of  Christ  shine  forth  to  the 
world,  should  you  not  do  it?"  "Ay!  verily,  but,  where  is  my 
means  to  publish  a  book.  Every  gate  is  barred  with  gold 
and  opens  but  to  golden  keys.  I  would  have  to  overcome 
so  many  obstacles  and  no  strength,  nor  health,  nor  sight, 
and  no  money."  "My  strength  is  sufficient  for  thee,"  came 
the  comforting  promise. 

The  impression  was  so  strong  that  I  felt  that  the  means 
would  be  provided,  and  the  amanuensis  also,  if  my  sight 
should  never  be  restored,  and  all  that  was  necessary,  in 
his  own  good  time, 

"Why  had  my  life  run  in  sucha  channel?  Why  such  fiery 
trials,  such  sad  experiences?  And  why  left  at  last  blind  and 
ill?"  The  answer.  To  show  I  am  God  and  by  faith  are  his 
children  led,  I  will  reward  those  who  put  their  trust  in 
me,"  Forget  the  things  which  are  behind,  and  press  on  to 
firmer  grasp  and  fuller  reception  of  Christ  and  his  joy,  and 
I  believe  my  life's  sufferings  had  been  for  some  good  pur- 
pose. My  parent's  income  was  scarcely  sufficient  for  their 
own  comfort  and  my  staying  there  was  depriving  them. 
My  brother  was  in  good  health  but  had  a  delicate  wife 
and  several  children  depending  upon  him.  The  brother 
in  Asheville,  Bradley,  had  lost  his  health  and  had  some 
business  failures  and  could  no  longer  give  me  an}'  assist- 
ance. My  children  must  be  helped  and  I  could  not  give 
up.  Truly,  I  had  to  be  up  and  doing,  go  to  Asheville,  get 
my  Httle  book  published  and  try  to  sell  it  for  my  own  and 
children's  support.  I  left  my  father's  and  went  to  Stella's 
where  I  remained  two  months  recuperating  my  health 
and  trying  to  regain  my   eyesight.     I  found  upon  my  ar- 


REWARD    OF   FAITH.  315 

riv^al  a  dear  little  angel  had  flown  to  this  home-nest  to 
brighten  and  gladden  their  hearts.  '■^  Grandmother^^  now, 
how  aged  I  felt!  All  winter  letters  had  come  from  Ernest, 
but  they  were  very  unsatisfactory,  as  his  father  read  them 
before  they  were  posted,  and  of  course  he  wrote  reserv- 
edly. A  sad  tone  throughout  made  my  heart  ache,  but 
I  was  still  unable  to  help  him.  Letters  from  the  children 
In  Asheville  spoke  of  their  returning  health  and  strength^ 
contentment  and  happiness,  and  progress  in  their  studies. 
Letters  from  their  teachers  were  very  gratifying,  speak- 
ing of  the  children  in  highest  praise. 

I  could  not  expect  Mr.  Lyman  to  take  the  burden  of  mv- 
self  and  children;  and  not  until  their  education  was  com_ 
pleted  and  they  werejgrown,  could  I  expect  to  relinquish 
my  effort  in  their  behalf.  So,  early  in  April  I  left  Stella's* 
seeing  enough  to  walk  about  but  unable  to  use  my  eyes 
but  a  few  moments  at  a  time,  they  were  so  extremely 
weak.  At  Bradley's  in  Asheville  I  had  the  sweet  pleas- 
ure of  beholding  my  three  daughters — bright  with  rosy 
health  and  glow  on  their  cheeks,  happy  and  contented* 
so  unlike  the  pale-faced,  sad-eyed  girls  of  a  year  ago.  I 
was  nearly  smothered  with  kisses,  and  Bertha  had 
brought  her  apron  full  of  flowers  and  all  had  so  much  to 
tell  and  to  show  me  how  much  they  loved  me,  that  I  felt 
indeed  I  had  not  suffered  and  toiled  in  vain;  only  the 
thought  of  poor  Ernest  made  us  unhappy.  A  cloud  would 
come  over  each  bright  face  at  the  thought  of  that  dear 
boy's  lonely,  sad  life.  He  had  only  been  permitted  to  re- 
main in  the  Rutherford  county  school  a  few  weeks.  Mr' 
Roderick  had  put  him  there  just  to  keep  him  from  com- 
ing to  me,  and  took  him  out  as  soon  as  he  dared,  and  put 
him    to   work.       Poor  Ernest  !      He  was  having  a  hard, 


316  ONE  avoman's  life. 

ioneiv  life.     With  assistance  from  my  people  I  succeeded 
in    getting  my  little  book  of  verses  published  and    began 
the  new  and  strange  work  of  selling  it.     The  humiliation 
of  the  work — being  such  a  small  thing  to  do — has  always 
made  it  repulsive  to  me.    My  heart  was  not  in  it,  and 
only   that  God  gave  it    to  me  and  necessity  forced  me  to 
do  it,  gave  me  courage;  yet  I  was  remarkably  successful 
and    received  much    encouragement,    particularl}^    from 
Masons,  real,  true  Christians  and  friends.     One  peculiar 
thing  about  my  selling  this    book  was  that  it  required 
daily  prayer  to  make  it  sell.     If  I  left  home  without  first 
asking   God  to  bless  and  prosper  me  that  day,  it  certain- 
ly was    brought  to    my    remembrance    before    the  day 
closed.      Generally    I    was    received    with   great    kind- 
ness by    the    Asheville  people,    but    often    discouraged, 
footsore    and   weary,  I  would  climb  some  long  flight    of 
steps  only  to  be  coldly  received  and  perhaps  rebuffed, 
with  distrustful  cold  looks.  Weary,  faint  and  sick,  I  would 
turn  with  a  heavy  heart  to  seek  another  and  perhaps  have 
nearly    the  same  experience.       "The  Lord  is    my  Shep- 
herd I  shall  not  want,"  and  much    of  the  twenty-third 
Psalm   ran  through  my  mind  and  healed  the  wound  that 
human  heartlessness  had  made.     "Bless  the  Lord,  O  my 
soul,  and   forget  not  all  his    benefits,"  would  arouse  my 
sinking    heart   to   action    and  renew  my  strength. 

"  Though  the  rock  of  my  last  hope  is  shivered 

And  its  fragments  are  sunk  in  the  wave, 
Though  I  feel  that  my  soul  is  delivered 

To  pain,  it  shall  not  be  its  slave  ; 
There  is  many  a  pang  to  pursue  me, 

They  crash,  but  they  shall  not  contemn  ; 
They  may  torture,  but  shall  not  subdue  me, 

'Tis  of  Thee  that  I  think,  not  of  them." 


REWARD     OF   FAITH.  317 

I  soon  made  arrangements  to  have  Ernest  admitted 
to  the  Boys'  Farm  School  for  one  or  two  years.  I  met 
the  President  of  the  Weaverville  College  and  arranged 
for  him  to  enter  there  after  the  term  at  the  Boys'  Farm 
School.  He  would  board  in  the  family  with  the  President, 
and  would  be  under  the  highest  influences.  I  was  exceed- 
ingly gratified  and  appreciated  all  this  goodness  to  me 
most  highly.  So  much  more  than  I  could  have  hoped 
for!  "  More  than  we  can  ask."  "  Prayer  must  be  based 
upon  promise,  but,  thank  God,  his  promises  are  always 
broader  than  our  prayers." 

I  had  saved  up  money  enough  to  provide  clothes  for 
Ernest  and  to  defray  his  expenses;  and  the  one  thing 
necessary  now  was  for  me  to  see  him  and  get  him  into 
this  school.  So  I  left  Asheville  for  Stella's.  I  then 
wrote  to  Mrs.  Tolbert  and  asked  if  she  would  deliver  a 
letter  to  Ernest  secretly  so  his  father  would  not  know  of 
it.  She  answered  that  she  would  see  it  safely  into 
Ernest's  hands,  and  thus  I  sent  it.  I  only  wrote  that  I 
wanted  to  see  him  at  Stella's,  for  him  to  come  at  once. 
Mr.  Roderick,  thinking  I  was  still  in  Asheville,  finally  lis- 
tened to  Ernest's  requests  to  visit  his  sister,  and  reluc- 
tantly gave  his  consent.  He  came  sooner  than  I  expected, 
and  I  was  startled  one  day  as  I  sat  in  the  room  when  a 
voice  behind  me  said,  "Good  evening";  and  I  turned  to 
see  a  strange,  tall,  pale  ^looking  boy  standing  in  the 
doorway.  He  had  grown  so^since  I  left — run  right  up  to 
a  tall,  pale-faced  boy.  I  scarcely  recognized  in  him  my 
little  Ernest.  "  Ernest,  my  dear,  dear  boy!  "  I  exclaimed, 
clasping  him  to  my  heart,  and  clung  to  and  wept  over 
him.  He  too  saved  would  be  the  drop  to  overflow  my 
cup  of  bliss.     But  he  had  to  return  for  his  clothes  and 


318  ONE  woman's  iife. 

help  gather  in  the  crops,  hoping  to  realize  something 
from  his  summer's  labor,  but  was  disappointed.  We  did 
not  know  the  exact  time  of  the  school's  opening,  and  I 
had  to  find  out  and  inform  him  by  private  letter.  The 
greatest  difficulty  in  the  way  now  was  the  getting  his 
clothes  from  his  father's.  He  could  make  good  his 
escape  by  running  away,  but  how  to  get  his  trunk  ? 
The  harvest  gathered,  but  to  his  great  disappointment 
not  a  cent  of  money  was  allowed  him.  So  all  his  labor 
and  time  was  lost.  While  Ernest  was  doing  all  this  I 
made  a  short  visit  to  my  mother,  having  forwarded  the 
school  letters  to  him  through  Mrs.  Tolbert.  I  found  my 
mother  much  improved  in  health.  She  seemed  to  have 
risen  above  all  her  trials  and  troubles,  and  now  lived  in  a 
higher,  more  spiritual  atmosphere. 

At  last  the  day  of  Ernest's  arrival  came.  Much  to  my 
relief  he  came  early,  but  so  haggard  and  tired  that  he 
dropped  down  upon  a  couch,  and  I  made  him  comforta- 
ble and  left  him  so  he  could  have  a  few  hours'  sleep, 
while  I  kept  watch,  fearing  Mr.  Roderick  would  discover 
his  escape  and  follow.  I  requested  some  negro  work- 
men on  the  farm  to  work  within  hearing  distance,  so  if 
anything  happened  I  could  call  them,  as  Mr.  Lyman  was 
absent  from  home.  But  nothing  occurred,  and  Ernest 
awoke  quite  refreshed  after  several  hours'  sleep.  He 
now  related  to  me  how  he  escaped  from  his  father.  At 
supper  the  evening  before  he  had  requested  his  father 
that  he  might  go  fishing  with  some  of  the  neighbor 
boys,  which  request  was  granted  him,  saying,  "I  think  I 
will  go  over  to  your  Aunt  Rachel's  and  spend  the  night 
while  you  are  fishing,  as  you  will  not  likely  get  in  before 
morning."     This  was  as   Ernest   had  hoped.     So  after 


REWAKD    OF    FAITH.  319 

his  father  left  for  Rachel's,  he  returned  home  instead  of 
going  fishing.      (It  was  the  custom  there  to  fish  at  night 
for  a  certain   kind  of  fish.)     Procuring  a  horse  from  the 
stable,  he  took  his  small  trunk  and  a  very  large  bundle, 
which  things  he  had  previously  packed  and  made  ready, 
and  rode  a  distance  of  seven  miles;  then  dismounting  he 
secreted   his  trunk   and   bundle  in  some  tall  weeds  near 
the  road,  then  mounted  the  horse  and  returned,  replaced 
the  horse  in   the  stable,  went  to  the  house  and  wrote  a 
short  note  to  his  father  saying  he  was  not  contented  and 
had  determined  to  go  to  mother  and  enter  the  school  she 
had   provided  for  him.     Leaving  this  upon  the  table  he 
again  retraced  his  way  to  where  he  had  left  his  trunk, 
walking    the    seven    miles.     He    arrived    there    about 
one  o'clock  a.m.,  so  tired  and   sleepy  he  could  not  but 
drop  upon  the  ground  for  a  short  nap.     Arousing  him- 
self he  shouldered  his  trunk  and  walked  two  miles  to  Ma- 
rion.    There  leaving  it  with  some  kind  friends  he  went 
back  and  got  the  bundle;  as  he  entered  the  town  day  was 
breaking.     He  left  his  things  with  kind  friends  and  came 
on  to  me,  walking  six  miles  to  Stella's.     No  wonder  he 
was  too  exhausted  to  speak.     That  evening  Mr.  Lyman 
took  Ernest  in  his  spring  wagon  and  returned  to  Marion 
for  his  trunk,  and  to  purchase  him  some  clothes  for  school. 
Not  returning   at   dark   as  we  expected,  I   feared   Mr. 
Roderick  had  captured  Ernest  and  his  things  by  law  and 
would  force  him  to  return  with  him;  so  I  lived  over  again 
that  awful  suspense,  waiting  from  six  till  ten  o'clock  before 
the  wagon  drove  up,  and,  thank  God!  Ernest  was  there 
with  Mr.  Lyman,  all  safe  and  sound,  and  his  trunk  with 
him.     The  relief  made  us  all  very  happy,  and  we  laughed 
and  talked  joyfully  all  the  evening.     Now  1  had  all  my 
children. 


320  ONE  woman's  life. 

At  last,  at  last!  after  all  the  anguish,  the  waiting-  and 
suspense,  the  prayers,  hopes,  and  fears;  and  after  all  hu- 
man efforts  that  had  looked  so  hopeless  had  been  made, 
my  blessing  had  come  and  my  prayers  were  answered. 
"God  is  good,"  just  as  the  letters  had  said,  that  had  so 
often  passed  before  my  blind  eyes  in  the  long  ago.  They 
had  been  sent  to  me  then  to  show  He  was  with  me  and 
would  not  forsake,  though  the  way  had  so  often  been 
hedged  by  difficulties  insurmountable  to  frail  humanity. 
Only  in  his  strength  and  wisdom  had  they  been  over- 
come. Thankfully  I  poured  out  my  heart  in  prayer  that 
night,  saying,  "  God  is  good,  God  is  good." 

Next  day  we  hurried  preparations  for  our  journey  to 
the  school,  and  were  in  readiness  by  the  noon  train,  which 
we  caught  at  a  crossing  by  flagging  the  train  down. 
Unfortunately  some  person  had  set  the  trunks  down  too 
near  the  track,  and  as  the  train  came  up  it  struck  the 
trunks,  knocking  both  under  the  train,  and  then  some  ob- 
stacle gave  them  a  crashing  blow  that  sent  them  out 
again  down  the  incline  on  the  other  side  just  in  time  to 
save  the  train  from  a  fearful  wreck.  The  trunks  were 
recovered,  tied  up  so  as  to  keep  the  things  in,  and  soon 
we  were  speeding  on  our  journey.  Ernest  looked  very 
happy  enjoying  the  trip.  At  Swannano  a  stationwe 
got  off  for  the  school.  Vehicles  were  there  to  receive 
the  boys,  and  Ernest  was  stowed  in  one  and  soon  arrived 
at  the  school.  Now  at  last  he  was  safe  and  beyond  the 
reach  of  his  father,  as  only  by  a  lawsuit  could  he  recover 
him ;  and  I  knew  he  would  not  attempt  that,  as  we  had 
too  strong  evidence  against  him,  besides  Ernest  was.  so 
determined  that  he  could  not  retain  him  any  way.  He 
would  have  been  made  tired  recovering  him  by  law,  as 


REWARD   OF   FAITH..  321 

he  said  he  would  keep  running  away  until  they  left  him 

alone. 

Mother  soon  wrote  a  joyful  letter  at  my  good  fortune, 

from  which  I  submit   an   extract:  "The  good   news  of 

Ernest  going  to  you  and   being  in  school  was  glorious. 

God's  hand  was  in  it!     Did  I  not  prophesy  it  all?     During 

those  terrible  years,  even  when  my  heart  was  like  lead  in 

my  bosom,  and  the  clouds  were  so  dense  over  us  you  nor 

I  could     see  a  ray  of  light   in  the  dark  horizon  of  our 

lives,  yet  I  would  not  despair,  but  kept  up  my  courage 

and  yours  too,  until  my  health  gave  entirely  away.     It 

has  all  come  to  pass  just  as  I  said  it  would,  though  I 

doubted  myself  after;  yet  it  seemed  to  be  an  inspiration 

to  talk  as  I  did  to  you.     I  could  not  see  how  it  could  be, 

yet  felt  it  through  all.     Now  let  me  prophesy  again  to 

you:  You  will  yet  be  a  prosperous  and  happy  woman,, 

with    a  home   and    comforts.     God    has    brought    you 

through  all  this  for  some  purpose  to  work  for  and  live 

for  his  glory." 

"  Pour  out  your  aong  before  Him 
To  whom  our  best  is  due; 
Kemember  He  who  hears  our  prayer, 
"Will  hear  your  praises  too." 

Now  that  the  children  were  all  safe  and  in  schools 
doing  well,  my  friends  advised  me  doing  something  to 
improve  my  own  condition  and  restore  my  sight  entirely. 
Though  I  could  see  to  go  about,  I  could  not  use  my 
eyes  to  read,  or  for  any  constant  use,  not  even  house- 
work. I  had  sold  my  books  all  over  Asheville,  so  must 
now  seek  a  new  field.  The  question  arose.  Where  shall 
I  go?  I  had  friends  in  Philadelphia  and  Baltimore,  but 
did  not  like  going  North  for  the  winter  months.  Had 
21 


322  ONE  woman's  life. 

heard  much  of  the  eminent  and  skillful  oculist,  Dr. 
Calhoun,  of  Atlanta,  Ga.,  and  the  climate  being  so  much 
warmer,  all  my  friends  advised  my  going  there.  But  I 
left  it  for  God  to  direct,  and  sought  in  prayer  to  be 
guided  aright.  Everything  seemed  more  favorable  for 
my  going  to  Atlanta  in  preference  to  other  places.  I 
believed  God  was  directing  my  footsteps  in  that  way  and 
thought  it  best  to  go.  Masons  gave  me  letters  to  the 
Masonic  Fraternity  in  Atlanta,  and  Dr.  Campbell,  pastor 
of  the  First  Presbyterian  Church,  Asheville,  gave  me  a 
letter  to  Dr.  Barnett,  of  the  First  Presbyterian  Church 
Atlanta;  Dr.  Felix,  of  the  First  Baptist  Church  in  Ashe- 
ville to  Dr.  Landrum  in  Atlanta;  letters  from  the  physi- 
cians to  Dr.  Calhoun,  a  letter  of  introduction  to  Dr. 
Thomas  of  the  Christian  Church,  also  one  from  a  Meth- 
odist clergyman. 

These,  in  addition  to  the  one  I  had  already  from  Bishop 
Cheshire  of  the  Episcopal  Church,  gave  me  a  pleasant 
introduction  in  Atlanta.  I  took  rather  a  circuitous  route 
in  order  to  sell  my  books  and  make  a  last  visit  to  my 
friends  before  leaving  North  Carolina,  defraying  my  ex- 
penses by  these  sales  and  saving  up  money  for  my  jour- 
ney. Arriving  in  Atlanta  I  stopped  at  Hotel  Marion. 
Next  day  Dr.  Barnett  called  and  went  with  me  to  see 
Dr.  Calhoun,  who  advised  me  to  go  to  the  hospital.  After 
a  thorough  examination  of  my  eyes,  he  said  I  would 
likely  never  be  able  to  use  them  much,  and  that  with 
the  improvement  of  my  general  health  they  would  im- 
prove some,  but  that  in  time  past  there  had  been  a  great 
deal  of  inflammation,  which  had  left  deposits  in  the  retina 
that  could  never  be  removed. 


REWARD    OF   FAITH.  323 

Arrangements  were  soon  made  for  m}'  enlranocet  the 
<3rady  Hospital.  There  were  at  this  hospital  as  tine  a 
corps  of  physicians  as  I  ever  met  anywhere  or  in  any 
hospital.  They  were  skilled  in  their  work  and  perfect  gen- 
tlemen; also,  a  kind  superintendent  and  efficient  nurses.' 
The  ministers  to  whom  I  had  letters  called,  expressing 
much  sympathy;  also,  many  ladies  from  different  churches. 
I  gained  quite  an  exalted  idea  of  Atlanta  people  and  found 
many  friends*  During  my  stay  at  the  hospital  I  endeav- 
ored to  find  in  those  who  visited  me  an  amanuensis  for 
my  book.  Some  one  must  write  for  me,  and  that  one 
had  not  yet  arrived,  I  had  many  promises  and  a  little 
help,  but  it  was  all  so  discouraging  I  finally  gave  it  up 
for  the  time. 

Soon  after  I  entered  the  hospital  a  reaction  from  the 
■excitement  and  change  set  in,  and  I  was  completely  ex- 
hausted with  nervous  prostration.  At  times  I  could  not 
speak,  and  would  sit  or  lie  for  hours  alone  with  my  face 
to  the  wall.  My  children  were  saved  and  now  were  all 
well  and  doing  well,  but  what  a  wreck  the  effort  had  made 
of  their  mother!  And  my  life  was  still  lonely,  for  I  had 
to  be  without  them  for  the  sake  of  their  education. 

"  O  sorrowing  one,  each  stroke  of  love 
A  covenant  blessing  yet  shall  prove; 
•  His  covenant  love  shall  be  thy  stay, 

And  covenant  grace  be  as  thy  day." 

Again  so  beautifully  expressed  elsewhere: 
"When  thou  passest through  the  waters  I  will  be  with 
thee."    Really  and  truly  with  you,  even  if  the  rushing  of 
the  waters  seem  to  deepen  and  blind  you  for  the  moment 
so  that  you  cannot  see  nor  hear  Him. 


324  ONE  woman's  life. 

Mother's  health  had  improved,  and  her  letters,  always 
a  comfort,  were  doubly  so  now.  A  friend,  in  looking 
over  some  old  letters,  came  across  a  copy  of  one  mother 
had  written  her  sister  Mary,  who  had  sent  it  to  me.  As 
it  will  be  of  interest  here,  I  give  the  following  extracts: 

"My  Dear  Sister  Mary: — I  have  been  thinking  for 
some  time  of  giving  you  a  brief  outline  of  some  of  my 
sad  experiences  for  the  last  sixteen  years,  yet  I  know 
there  are  no  words  in  the  English  language  expressive 
enough  to  convey  to  your  mind  a  correct  idea  of  my  real 
sufferings.  Within  the  last  ten  years  every  member  of 
my  family,  myself  included,  have  passed  within  sight  of 
the  'silent  shore,'  and  poor  Edgar  passed  over  the  river 
some  years  ago.  At  the  time  we  came  here  our  only 
daughter,  a  good,  beautiful,  and  gifted  girl,  was  just  en- 
tering her  sixteenth  year,  and  was  much  beloved  by  our 
family  and  all  who  knew  her.  She  was  'the  apple  of 
my  eye,'  the  sole  daughter  of  our  house.  I  was  never 
happy  away  from  her,  and  she  seemed  always  to  prefer 
my  society  to  that  of  others.  In  consequence  I  had  great 
influence  over  her,  she  always  listening  to  my  counsels,, 
and  abiding  in  my  judgment  in  every  affair  of  her  young 
life.  Hence  when  Mr.  Roderick,  a  merchant  of  our 
town,  sought  the  hand  of  our  daughter  in  marriage,  I 
urged  her  to  accept  him,  believing  him  a  noble  true 
Christian,  he  was  so  unselfish  and  loved  her  so  devotedly. 
I  really  believed  in  him  and  thought  I  was  right.  She 
had  many  admirers,  but  I  distrusted  them  all.  I  thought 
if  she  did  not  marry  Mr.  Roderick  she  might  eventually 
become  the  victim  of  some  sefish  dissolute  man.  With 
these  fears  I  encouraged  her  to  receive   his   addresses,, 


REWARD    OF   FAITH.  325 

telling  her  that  I  would  probably  die  soon,  and  her  father 
was  in  delicate  health,  havingr  changed  climate  for  his 
benefit.  Also  telling  her  that  the  feelings  of  gratitude, 
€steem,  and  liking  she  entertained  for  him  would  in  time 
ripen  into  a  warmer  feeling.  I  thought  in  case  of  my 
death  he  would  be  her  shield  and  protector.  These 
were  my  motives.  She  listened  to  me,  and  they  were 
engaged.  Yes,  1  freely  and  trustingly  gave  to  this  man, 
a  comparative  stranger,  my  only  daughter,  my  one  pet 
lamb!  and  she  without  a  murmur  calmly  and  quietly  laid 
her  golden  head  upon  the  sacrificial  altar  of  a  mother's 
wishes.  '  She  was  led  like  a  lamb  to  the  slaughter,  and  like 
one  she  opened  not  her  mouth. '  By  this  silence  I  was  de- 
ceived. Had  I  known  all  I  would  sooner  have  died  than 
encouraged  such  a  sacrifice,  for  her  happiness  and  pros- 
perity were  the  one  desire  of  my  heart.  They  had  not 
been  married  many  weeks  ere  I  feared  that  I  had  made 
the  mistake  of  a  lifetime,  and  before  many  months  had 
passed  I  w^as  sure  of  it.  But  I  told  no  one,  hoping  I 
might  be  mistaken;  but  I  wr.s  not.  The  eyt^s  of  love  are 
sharp,  and  soon  the  scales  fell  from  them  and  Mr.  Roderick 
stood  revealed  to  me  clothed  in  his  true  colors,  with  the 
temper  of  a  maniac,  so  unreasonable  and  cruel.  I  have 
read  somewhere  that  there  is  nothing  more  dangerous, 
more  subtle,  and  more  armed  with  secret  stings,  than  the 
urbanity  of  a  hypocrite  or  the  cunning  of  a  maniac. 
Dear  sister,  can  you  imagine  my  feelings  after  a  knowl- 
edge of  these  facts  had  burst  in  upon  me?  I  did  not  en- 
joy one  moment's  peace  or  happiness.  By  the  one  act 
I  had  brought  ruin  and  misery  to  one  I  loved  better  than 
anything  on  earth.  I  alone  was  guilty.  I,  her  mother, 
have  been  the  chief  cause  of  all  her   misery  and  her 


326         ^  ONE   AVOMANS   LIFE. 

wretched  and  darkened  life.  I  have  not  only  made  her 
wretched,  but  heaped  untold  misery  upon  my  own  head. 
Sister,  you  have  young  daughters,  take  warning  and 
never  advise  them  to  marry  unless  sure  of  their  future 
happiness.  I  have  prayed,  oh,  so  fervently!  to  be  for- 
given, and  if  suffering  could  make  atonement,  have  suf- 
fered enough  to  make  full  atonement  for  the  great  sin 
against  the  peace  of  my  child;  and  I  know  she  has  never 
harbored  an  unkind  thought  toward  me  for  all  this.  In 
her  "Life  History,"  written  by  herself,  she  has  described 
the  cruel  treatment  she  has  received  at  the  hands  of 
her  insane  husband.  When  at  my  own  home  I  never 
felt  for  a  moment  free  from  anxiety,  always  expecting  to 
hear  that  she  was  dead  or  bodily  injured.  Whenever  a 
stranger  appeared  at  the  house  I  would  tremble,  grow 
cold  and  faint,  fearing  to  learn  his  errand,  and  constantly 
feared  that  Mr.  Roderick,  in  one  of  his  insane  fits  of 
rage,  in  which  he  often  indulged,  would  crush  out  the 
small  spark  of  vitality  yet  remaining  in  her  wasted  and  en- 
feebled frame.  All  these  terrible  years  she  lay  blind  and 
helpless  and  at  his  mercy.  She  was  patient  and  gentle 
through  it  all,  and  I  often  wondered  at  her  Christian 
fortitude.  Through  repeated  shocks  to  her  nervous  sys- 
tem she  was  reduced  to  a  fate  worse  than  death  in  any 
form ;  and  she  lay  perfectly  blind  and  helpless  for  six  long 
years.  There  are  degrees  of  wretchedness  which  can 
never  be  described:  such  was  the  case  now.  I  would 
often  go  to  the  woods  where  no  eye  could  see  me,  no 
ear  could  hear  but  God's,  and  throwing  myself  prone 
upon  the  ground  give  vent  to  loud  cries  of  anguish  and 
despair.  After  spending  a  short  while  in  this  manner, 
would  return  to  the   house,  resume  my  labors,  having 


REWARD    OF   FAITH.  327 

partially  relieved  my  almost  bursting  heart.  I  often  felt 
as  if  I  was  enclosed  within  iron  walls,  where  no  light 
nor  air  could  ever  penetrate,  and  these  huge  walls  were 
slowly  drawing  nearer  and  would  eventually  crush  me. 
This  fearful  agony  and  mental  strain  brought  on  a  spell 
of  sickness,  from  which  I  was  not  entirely  relieved  for 
some  years.  My  mental  vision  was  obscured  and  over- 
shadowed by  a  thick  cloud  of  darkness.  My  visits  to  my 
daughter,  when  physically  strong  enough  to  go,  were 
attended  with  the  greatest  distress.  Oh,  my  sister,  I 
cannot  tell  you  how  I  felt,  believing  that  in  all  human 
probabiHty  one,  if  not  both  of  us,  would  cross  to  the 
other  side  before  long,  and  that  we  might  never  see  each 
other  more  in  this  life.  Mv  heart  died  within  me  as  I  looked 
upon  the  colorless  face  of  my  desolate  and  almost  friendless 
child,  as  I  feared,  for  the  last  time  in  this  world.  Before 
leaving  I  would  kneel  by  her  bed  and  pray  to  our  Father 
in  heaven  to  spare  us,  if  it  was  in  accordance  with  His 
divine  will,  and  permit  us  to  meet  again  on  the  shores  of 
time.  I  kissed  her  good-bye  and  went  away  without 
once  looking  back,  feeling  as  if  my  heart-strings  were 
being  rent  in  twain.  The  last  view  of  her  haunted  me 
always — the  poor  bandaged  eyes,  the  pitiful,  sad  ex- 
pression of  the  face,  the  colorless,  emaciated  hands,  and 
helpless  form,  forsaken  of  all  but  God.  I  knew  I  had 
left  this  poor  creature,  this  desolate,  pitiful  wreck  of 
humanity,  in  the  hands  of  a  hard-hearted  and  cruel  mad- 
man, this  child  of  mine,  who,  only  a  few  years  ago,  was 
a  lovely  and  blooming  girl!  Oh  my  God!  I  cried,  spare 
me  to  her!  What  has  she  left  her  but  me?  What  will 
she  do  without  me?  Is  it  not  my  work  and  duty  to  spend 
my  life  in  her  service?  to  die  for  her  if  necessary?     Have 


328  ONE  woman's  life. 

I  not,  by  one  act  of  my  iife,  consigned  her  to  a  fate  ten 
thousand  times  worse  than  death?  With  these  feelings 
I  left  her,  knowing  it  was  my  only  resource  if  I  wished 
to  live.  After  years  God  took  pity  on  us,  and  to  my 
great  surprise  I  began  slowly  to  mend.  Yes,  God  in  his 
infinite  mercy  put  forth  his  hand  and  hfted  me  from  this 
terrible  physical  and  mental  prostration.  This  awful 
nightmare  of  the  soul  which  I  had  so  long  endured  was 
fast  leaving  me,  and  I  could  smile  again,  but  could  not 
and  did  not  shed  tears  for  months.  I  was  so  happy! 
Oh,  sister,  no  one,  unless  they  have  had  the  same  expe- 
rience, can  realize  how  I  felt.  I  almost  think  my  face 
shone,  and  my  heart  went  out  in  grateful  thanksgiving 
to  God  and  to  my  dear  husband  for  his  constant  and 
tender  care  of  me.  The  happiest  thought  of  all  was  that 
I  would  spend  the  rest  of  my  Hfe  in  the  service  of  God, 
bless  His  Holy  name,  and  oh,  joyful  thought!  my  child 
was  still  alive.  Thanks,  too,  to  the  many  noble  Chris- 
tian ladies,  I  would  see  her  again!  and,  still  better  than 
all,  when  we  died,  we  would  live  together  in  heaven 
with  our  blessed  Saviour.  Oh,  how  thankful  I  was  to 
God!     I  kept  saying,  'God  is  good.'" 

"  Yet  in  the  naadding  maze  of  things, 
And  tossed  by  storm  and  flood, 
On  one  fixecj  stake  my  soul  shall  cling — 
I  know  that  God  is  good." 

The  treatment  at  the  hospital  soon  improved  my  gen- 
eral health  and  I  began  to  look  about  me  for  something 
useful  to  do  until  I  was  able  to  go  out  into  the  world 
again.  The  field  was  ripe  unto  harvest  for  the  work  of 
saving  souls.  The  Christans  amongst  the  patients  joined 
me  in  prayers,  songs,  and  readings,  that  soon  interested 


REWARD   OF   FAITH  331 

the  Others,  and  often  we  had  some  very  elevating  soul- 
inspiring  little  meetings.  One  young  girl  seemed  especially 
interested,  and  was  at  last  thoroughly  converted  and  sent 
home  to  her  mother  a  Christian.  Another,  who  was  a  very 
sick  woman  and  had  led  a  wretched,  sinful  life,  was  arous- 
ed to  a  sense  of  her  guilt,  and  often  listened  attentively 
to  us.  One  day  she  sent  for  me,  asking  for  prayer  and 
hymns.  I  saw  she  was  very  low  and  could  not  live.  I 
called  in  others,  and  we  read  God's  word  and  prayed 
for  her.  After  singing  a  hymn  in  which  the  dying  wo- 
man joined,  she  opened  her  eyes  and,  smiling,  said  :  "O, 
I  am  forgiven!  I  am  saved!  God  has  forgiven  me  all  my 
sins  for  Christ's  sake!  Thank  God  for  sending  you  to 
tell  me  about  my  Saviour!"  Later  I  sat  alone  with  her. 
Accidentally  no  one  happened  in  for  a  little  while.  As 
I  watched  the  pale  face  lying  there,  so  lonely,  and  now 
no  friend,  no  relations  near,  my  heart  ached  for  her.  But 
as  I  noticed  the  calm,  peaceful  expression,  I  knew  she 
was  not  alone,  for  Jesus  was  there  and  comforted  her 
soul.  He  can  be  all,  all  we  need  to  fill  our  lives.  It  is 
an  awful  thing  to  watch  a  soul  taking  its  flight  for  eter- 
nity, and  oh,  the  many  thoughts  that  crowded  my  mind 
as  I  now  beheld  this  dying  woman!  dying  to  earth,  but 
entering  the  true  life  above.  I  felt,  oh,  so  thankful  if 
indeed  I  had  been  an  instrument  in  God's  hand  of  lead- 
ing one  soul  to  him!  It  would  more  than  repay  me  for 
all  those  sad  years  of  suffering.  The  wan  face  became 
more  rigid  and  the  gasps  shorter,  then  the  soul  took  its 
flight  and  I  was  alone  with  the  dead.  Oh,  the  mystery 
of  the  grave!  Then  the  thought,  "By  thy  glorious  res- 
urrection and  ascension,"  and  light  flashed  into  my  soul. 


332  ONE  woman's  life. 

"Sing  hallelujah!     Light  from  heaven  appearing, 
The  mystery  of  life  and  death  is  plain  ; 
Now  to  the  grave  we  can  descend  unfearing 
In  Bure  and  certain  hope  to  rise  again." 

As  spring  opened  my  physician  thought  a  change  in 
the  open  air  would  be  beneficial;  and,  accepting  the  invi- 
tation of  some  dear  friends,  I  bade  good-bye  to  Grady 
Hospital,  resolving  now  to  make  every  effort  to  finish 
the  story  of  my  Hfe  and  do  the  work  God  had  appointed 
me  to  do;  my  faith  unshaken  in  my  belief  in  its  mission 
for  good,  regardless  of  the  many  barriers  and  difficulties 
that  had  arisen  to  hinder  it.  Not  that  I  felt  that  my  life 
was  of  any  consequence,  but  the  power  of  Christ  shone 
through  it  and  the  leading  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  Perhaps 
that  might  lead  some  heart  to  believe  and  be  saved. 

Among  other  friends  I  visited  Mrs.  Vaughn  at  Bethany 
Home.  Here  I  felt  strongly  the  spiritual  atmosphere  of 
the  place,  and  was  led  to  deep  meditation  and  prayer. 
Never  had  I  consecrated  my  life  so  thoroughly  to  God 
as  I  did  at  this  time.  Children,  parents,  friends,  all  ties, 
all  earthly  love,  I  would  relinquish  and  go  to  the  further 
ends  of  the  earth — anywhere  where  my  Saviour  called. 

"  Oh  let  me  know 
The  power  of  thy  resurrection. 

Oh  let  me  show 
Thy  risen  life  in  clear  reflection. 

Oh  let  me  soar 
"Where  thou  my  Saviour  Christ  art  gone  hefore. 

In  mind  and  heart 
Let  me  dwell  always  only  where  thou  art." 

At  this  time  I  received  a  letter  from  Marie  stating  her 
desire  to  prepare  for  mission  work.  She  wrote:  "I  have 
wept  and  longed  much  for  a  father's  love  and  care,  but  I 


REWARD    OF   FAITH,  333^ 

now  have  our  heavenly  Father  for  my  friend,  and  why 
should  the  daughters  of  a  King  go  mourning  all  their  day? 
I  no  longer  grieve  for  the  past,  but  shall  follow  Christ's 
bidding,  '  Go  ye,  therefore,  and  teach  all  nations.'  Mother, 
dear,  I  must  work  for  Jesus."  I  had  long  since  given 
my  children  to  God,  and  felt  honored  that  one  of  them 
had  already  been  called.  So  my  answer  returned  in  the 
following  lines. 

Thk  Gift. 

God  has  called  you,  my  Marie,  and  1  hear  the  sweet  voice 
Of  Jesus  our  Saviour;  He  would  make  you  his  choice 
To  work  in  his  vineyard,  to  teach  in  his  name; 
He  would  give  you  the  power  lost  souls  to  reclaim. 

I  give  you,  my  darling,  an  offering  to  him, 
Who  died  to  redeem  us,  to  save  us  from  sin. 
Be  filled  with  His  spirit,  be  strong  in  the  strife. 
Bring  souls  unto  Jesus,  in  Christ  there  is  life. 

And  when  all  is  over  and  we  meet  on  the  shore 
Ot  Heaven's  fair  Jordan,  to  part  nevermore, 
With  Christ  ever  present  to  soothe  away  tears. 
All  pains  we'll  forget  of  those  sorrowful  years, 

Mother. 

I  was  sorry  to  leave  my  friends  at  Bethany  Home,, 
they  were  such  true,  noble  Christians,  but  I  must  be  up 
and  doing.  Dr.  Calhoun  encouraged  me  but  little  as  to 
regaining  my  eyesight  perfectly.  He  has  a  noble,  un- 
selfish heart  and  treated  me  with  great  courtesy.  There 
was  left  nothing  for  me  to  do  now  but  return  to  selling 
my  little  book  of  verses.  With  a  letter  from  him  and 
from  many  of  the  clergy  of  Atlanta,  I  again  resumed 
"my  burden,"  selling  this  book,  so  trying  on  nerve  and 
heart,  besides  the  great  physical  strain — walking,  walk- 
ing,   day    after    day,    until    exhausted.      I    continually 


334  ONE  woman's  life. 

prayed  that  a  different  and  more  agreeable  work 
might  be  given  me  and  this  trial  removed.  On  one  oc- 
casion I  felt  again  a  message  of  peace  whispering  in  my 
ear.  "You  have  trusted  me,"  said  the  voice;  "your 
hours  of  trial  are  nearly  over,  and  my  peace  and  rest 
shall  abide  with  you  and  fill  your  soul,  and  my  strength 
shall  lift  you  from  the  dark  places  to  brighter  and  hap- 
pier days  than  you  have  known  for  years.  Lift  your 
head  and  look  up,  for  I  the  Lord,  having  brought  you 
through  the  deep  waters,  will  strengthen,  and  will  remove 
the  burdens."  I  knew  that  Jesus  was  speaking,  and  his 
promises  would  not  fail.  Confident  and  resting  in  this 
new  assurance,  I  trusted  in  the  change  I  knew  was  com- 
ing. 

As  the  days  went  by  I  kept  an  outlook  for  the  one  who 
was  to  finish  my  life's  history.  One  day  in  a  quiet  retreat 
I  discovered  and  formed  the  acquaintance  of  an  artist, 
Miss  Evelyn  Noble,  one  whom  I  soon  saw  had  suffered 
and  borne  with  Christian  fortitude  the  battle  of  hfe.  Self- 
sacrificing,  generous,  and  kind,  we  soon  were  in  perfect 
sympathy  with  each  other.  I  saw  at  once  she  could 
comprehend  and  sympathize  with  me  in  my  life's  trials, 
and  was  sure  God  had  at  last  directed  me  to  the  right 
person.  The  work  was  taken  up  where  I  had  left  it, 
and  it  progressed  rapidly,  and  soon  some  chapters  had 
been  copied  by  the  typewriters. 

Friends  and  Masons  now  became  interested,  and  with 
their  kind  assistance  it  was  all  about  ready  for  the  publish- 
ers. God  raised  up  many  friends,  who  interested  them- 
selves in  it  and  kindly  offered  their  assistance,  and  I 
knew  the  way  would  open  for  its  publication.  Two 
great  efforts  of  my  life  were  now  accomplished. 


REWARD    OF    FAITH.  335 

My  children  had  been  saved  from  ruin  and  were  all 
converted  (Ernest  had  given  his  heart  to  Christ  during 
my  stay  at  Grady  Hospital),  were  [in  good  schools,  and 
were  en j  oy ing  brighter  prospects.  Stella  and  Mr.  Lyman 
had  some  time  ago  entered  the  church.  So  all  were 
within  the  fold.  The  other  effort,  the  book,  was  nearly 
written  and  ready  for  publication — the  result  only  time 
can  tell.  God  grant  it  may  fulfill  the  desire  of  my  heart 
in  pointing  some  soul  to  Christ,  and  in  its  work  may  it 
glorify  his  holy  name. 

"  Though  sometimes  the  way  has  been  dreary, 
And  toilsome  the  path  I  have  trod ; 
Soon,  soon  I  shall  be  where  the  chosen 
Find  rest  in  the  arms  of  their  God. 

How  blissful  ■will  then  be  the  meeting 

Of  the  chosen  ones  of  the  Lord  ! 
Compared  with  its  rapture  how  fleeting 

The  pleasures  the  world  can  afford. 

Oh  sweet  is  the  thought  that  I  never 

Shall  leave  the  bright  city  above ! 
I  shall  dwell  with  my  Saviour  forever, 

Forever  be  blest  in  his  love," 

"  The  Lord  shall  give  thee  rest  from  thy  sorrow,  and 
from  thy  fear,  and  from  the  hard  bondage  wherein  thou 
wast  made  to  serve."     Isa.  14:3. 


'^M.M^.if^m^^^MM.^A^^.it' 


